


A Blog Worth Following

by lightning_shaped_scars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, First Time, Head Boy Harry, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Humor, Internet AU, Laptops at Hogwarts, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Technology, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 73,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightning_shaped_scars/pseuds/lightning_shaped_scars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Internet is introduced to Hogwarts and Harry discovers Tumblr. A certain Slytherin stumbles across Harry's blog and discovers that the Boy-Who-Lived isn't who Draco thought he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This particular story of mine is currently published on fanfiction.net, however I received a lot of requests to post it here on Archive. I hope you guys like it!

 

“I have an announcement,” Dumbledore began over the noise of the students.

It was the first evening back at Hogwarts and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all seated at the Gryffindor table as seventh years. With the sorting having been completed, the three of them, boys especially, were waiting impatiently for the feast to begin.

“Ron, shh!” Hermione hissed, nudging the boy beside her as he groaned. She turned expectant brown eyes to the headmaster as he began his speech.

“For all of those who are muggle-born or may be knowledgeable with the muggle lifestyle, Hogwarts is now introducing a brand new system that you will no doubt be experienced with. For those who have had no interaction with muggles what-so-ever, this new system will not be entirely difficult to learn and even I can express my pleasure in how much fun it can be.” Dumbledore chuckled humorously, oblivious to the many whispers that had broken out across the students. Many of the teachers were looking excited, if not nervous, at the idea of the new system. They of course had been informed of such a change over the holidays. Professor Snape on the other hand, looked downright miserable.

“This new system will provide you with a much faster way of gaining and storing information.  The Ministry of Magic assures me that students such as yourselves will find this new system a lot more fun and easier to handle. Let it be known that as of today, Hogwarts will be welcoming the new technology of computer laptops.”

A shocked silence covered the Great Hall, broken only by an outraged voice from the Slytherin table.

“What the hell are those?!”

Ron turned to Hermione. “Yeah, what _are_ those?” he asked.

“Laptops,” Hermione began with a grin, “are a muggle device used for many things, Ronald.” She looked at Harry who sat across the table, pondering the idea of laptops with an amused expression. “Harry, this is great!” she exclaimed. “It’s about time the Ministry embraced muggle technology. It’s going to make taking notes in class and organising them so much easier!”

The noise in the Great Hall had steadily grown louder as other students explained to those of a purely magically background what laptops actually were.

“It’ll be easier to show you once we have them,” Dean explained to Neville and Ginny. “But you’ll pick up on how to use them fairly easy, especially if you’re using them just for their basic tools.”

“What do you mean basic tools?” Neville asked with a worried frown.

“Well most laptops are used to create and store information in programs,” Dean replied. “They can be used for specific and intricate tasks depending on what you want.”

“Programs?” Neville bit his lip.

“Just wait until we get them,” Dean grinned. “Then I can show you.”

Dumbledore watched the student’s growing excitement with twinkling eyes as he cleared his throat to get their attention once more.

“I’m sure most of you will find using this new technology to be a fun and interesting experience,” Dumbledore continued. “There is much to be said for embracing new ideas; please do not fear that you will be unable to understand how a computer laptop functions. There are many students here already equipped with knowledge on how to use them and I am sure they will gladly help anyone who needs a hand.

“Along with these new computer laptops, Hogwarts will also be installed with a component called the _Internet_. This feature allows you to research various _web browsers_ and collect any useful information. The _Internet_ , of course, mostly features non-wizarding information but the Ministry has already provided many _websites_ with information suitable for your classes this year.”

Dumbledore paused, enjoying the astonished attention he was receiving.

“Every student will be given a computer laptop. They are waiting for each and every one of you by your bedside. They come with a handy carry-bag to take your computer laptop to class as well as detailed instructions on how it functions. I have been told that although all computer laptops run on _electricity_ , yours have been adapted to function purely on magical energy.”

“Oh that’s such a good idea,” Hermione sighed, eyes gleaming with the prospect of a new way to study and communicate. “There are so many things I want to show you, Ron.”

“Yeah I bet you do,” Ron moped.

“Cheer up,” Harry chuckled. “It’s actually something I think you’ll enjoy.”

“How’s so?”

“Well, if the Ministry is creating wizarding websites I’m sure they’ll make a Chudley Cannons one as well…”

“Yeah?” Ron said excitedly. “That’d be pretty mad.”

“Now I’ll be able to check my Facebook more often,” Hermione continued excitedly.

“You have a Facebook?” Harry sniggered. “I haven’t found you on there.”

“I became rather hooked over summer,” Hermione admitted. “One of my friends I see during the holidays got me onto it.”

“Yeah same,” Harry smiled.

“What’s Facebook?” Ron frowned.

“A social networking website,” Hermione replied.

“A social net-what?”

“Never mind, Ronald, I’ll show you this evening.” Hermione shook her head. “Hey,” she frowned, “I’ve just realised, if the Ministry is making wizarding websites, won’t muggles stumble across them while they’re on the web?”

“I’m sure they’ll find a way to hide them,” Harry replied. “If our laptops have been adapted to magic then maybe we’ll be the only ones to access the sites.”

“Hmm, that might be possible,” Hermione pondered, moving her gaze back to the headmaster and hoping she hadn’t missed out on anything important while they had been chatting.

Thankfully, Dumbledore appeared to have completed this year’s speech and had returned to his chair as food magically appeared onto their tables.

“ _Thank_ _you_ ,” Ron said, drooling at the sight of the food.

 

It wasn’t long before the feast faded away and students were obviously itching in their seats to get to their new laptops. Dumbledore rose to his feet, gaining attention once more.

“Before I send you off to your dormitories I would like to inform you that the Library has been equipped with devices named ‘printers’ that will allow you to print any documents you will need for class or personal use. Please use your new computer laptops wisely and with care. The Ministry will be sending one of their own to Hogwarts in the next few days to be of help to those with any problems.” Dumbledore smiled widely. “Now off to bed! _Pip pip!_ ”

“Hey, Harry, don’t you need to go help the prefects?” Ron asked as the entire school began to move.

Harry’s Head Boy badge flashed as he got to his feet. “No, it’s up to the fifth year prefects to make sure the first years make it to the tower.” He smiled wryly. “Don’t you remember, Ron?”

“Relatively,” the red-head grinned. “God they’re so small—were we that small?”

Harry sniggered, following his friends out into the Entrance Hall. Despite the shock of receiving such a random gift from the Ministry of Magic, one that had transpired from muggle influence, it felt good to be back where he belonged, surrounded by friends that cared for him—

“For the love of _god_ , Weasley _,_ move out of the way.”

Ron glared. “Shove off, Malfoy,” he spat in reply.

“I’m not the one blocking the door,” Malfoy sneered. His cool grey eyes swept over the Golden Trio with disdain, his lip curling. “If you don’t _mind_.”

“Come on, guys,” Harry said, tugging his friends to the side. “Let’s just get upstairs.”

“B-But, Harry!” Ron spluttered.

“He’s not worth it, Ron,” Harry replied simply. “And we _were_ blocking the way; we should be used to not being asked nicely.”

Ron snorted but didn’t say anything further. Instead they began their way upstairs, following the familiar path to the Fat Lady’s portrait. Thankfully the first years had already been led inside and settled, leaving the common room relatively quiet as they entered. Although Harry received a few open stares from the new students, he was glad to be back.

“Shall we go check out our new toys?” Harry grinned, noticing a few of their classmates had already started.

All of the laptops were the same pretty silver with the Hogwarts crest print in black in the middle of the top screen lid.

“Do you mind if I join you two in your dormitory?” Hermione asked.

“Um, I don’t share with Ron and the guys anymore, remember?” Harry replied.

“Now that Harry’s Head Boy he gets his own room,” Ron moped. “Lucky bastard…”

“Jealous?” Harry grinned.

“Yes,” Ron pouted.

“So? Who’s room?” Hermione pressed.

“Let’s go check out Harry’s,” Ron suggested, “and mess it up so he has to come back to us.” The red head grinned evilly and rushed up the staircase.

Both Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes, sharing a smile.

“Let me go grab my laptop and I’ll meet you up there. You’re right up the top now, aren’t you?” Hermione asked.

“Yep, the stairs finish at my door apparently,” Harry chuckled. “Ron’s going to see my new room before I do.”

“Alright, I’ll see you guys in a second.” Hermione turned around and rushed up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, leaving Harry to journey up to his new room alone.

When he finally make it to the last landing, the stairs did indeed, stop right before his door. A large plaque in gold was stamped across the wood, ‘HEAD BOY’ practically screaming at him. With a small sigh, Harry entered his new room and caught sight of Ron sprawled on his large four poster bed. Ron’s new laptop lay beside him in a black satchel bag.

“Comfortable? Because if it’s not I might just have to trade with someone else.” Harry mused with a smile.

“Nah, mate, its fine.” Ron offered a small grin. He sat up and unzipped his laptop bag, pulling the sleek, shiny machine into his lap. “So this is a laptop huh? A computer-thingy?”

Harry laughed outright. “Yeah, mate, a computer-thingy.”

“Can you show me how it works?” Ron asked. “Does it open or something?”

Harry crossed the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. “See how the crest is upside down? Yeah turn it around so it’s the right way up.” Harry smiled. “You can only open laptops one way, alright? So make sure the crest is this way before lifting the lid up.”

Ron did so and his eyes widened in amazement. “Bloody hell.”

“It’s a nice laptop,” Harry commented.

“How do you turn it on?” Ron asked.

“Usually you’d plug it in to charge but considering it runs off magic, I wonder if there is a spell or something.” Harry rummaged through Ron’s bag and pulled out a booklet. He flicked through the pages, coming across the instructions on ‘First Usage’. “Okay it says here to cast _Victus Navitas_ before turning it on.”

Harry flicked his wand and murmured the spell. A little green light blinked into life beside the power button and Harry grinned.

“According to the instructions that’s exactly what’s meant to happen,” he said happily.

“Do you reckon the first years will be able to handle that?” Ron asked with a frown.

“The spell isn’t hard,” Harry replied. “If they need help they can ask us or the Professors.”

“Mmm, true,” Ron pondered.

“You can switch your laptop on now if you want,” Harry continued, flipping through the booklet.

Ron hesitantly held his finger over the square button. “This one?”

“Yep, but don’t press it too hard,” Harry said, knowing Ron’s unusual way of dealing with muggle items.

Ron pressed the small square button carefully, the monitor flashing as the machine switched on, humming contently in the red head’s lap.

“It glows,” Ron gasped gently in amazement. “I thought it would be more like a wizard painting.”

“Except it can do a lot more than a wizard painting,” Harry chuckled. “Alright see here? It’s asking you to set up your account and stuff. This means you’ll have a username and a password which only you will know. This stops people from accessing your files.”

“Huh,” Ron murmured. “So what is a username exactly?”

“A username is what you use when you make an account on different things,” Harry explained. “It’s basically the name to your account.”

“So what should mine be?” Ron asked.

“Whatever you want,” Harry smiled. “It could be ‘Weasley7’ or something.”

“Okay, um.” Ron stared at the keyboard. “Are these letters?”

“Yeah, those are what you press to put letters on screen; it’s called typing,” Harry said. “And see that long blank button? Yeah that one, that’s the space bar. You press that when you want to put a space between words and this one here, Shift, hold that down before pressing a letter and it makes it into a capital and it also makes those little symbols available. Caps Lock permanently makes letters capitals when you press it once. Press it again to make them small.” Harry shuffled forward to point at the screen. “See that little arrow? He’s called your mouse. He’s what you use to select what you want or where you wish to type. That black square just below your keyboard? Yeah put your finger on there, _gently_ , and move it across. See?” Harry chuckled at Ron’s reaction. “That’s how you move it. When you have the arrow over whatever it is you want to click on, either tap the black square or use the left button directly below—yeah that one.”

Ron exhaled loudly. “Okay let me give it a go.”

Once the cursor was where it needed to be, Ron began carefully pressing letters and Harry left him to it to start up his own laptop. After charging it and switching it on, Harry took a glance at Ron’s screen and smiled.

“You don’t need to spell out your entire name, mate,” Harry laughed. “Even just ‘Ron’s Laptop’ would be fine I’m sure.”

“So it doesn’t need my middle name?” Ron asked, biting his lip.

“No,” Harry sniggered, typing in his own username. “See? I’m just going to put ‘Harry’s’.”

“Oh, alright then,” Ron replied with a wry smile. “How do I get rid of it?”

“Use backspace,” Harry said. “See the blinking line? If that’s in front of whatever you want to get rid of then press backspace. If it’s behind, press Delete.”

Once their usernames and passwords had been organised, their settings configured and wallpapers chosen, Harry began showing Ron the better uses for their laptops.

“This is so mad,” Ron breathed, eyes tracking over the screen.

“You wait until you discover the internet,” Harry grinned. “Here I’ll show you my Facebook.”

“Speaking of which—where’s Mione? Wasn’t she coming up too?” Ron asked.

“She probably got held up by Parvati and Lavender, or even some of the first years.” Harry shrugged as he opened the internet browser. “I’ll show you how to search for different things later.” His fingers danced expertly across the keyboard, fascinating Ron to no end.

“Bloody hell you can type fast,” Ron said in amazement.

“I’ve also had a lot of practice,” Harry replied, “but it’s alright, you’ll probably pick up on it pretty fast. I know the keyboard isn’t set out as the alphabet traditionally goes but you’ll soon learn where they are. Hopefully you’ll be able to touch type like I do; that means you can type without looking at the keyboard.”

Harry’s Facebook popped up and Ron observed with interest as Harry checked his notifications.

“So what’s the point of this thing?” Ron asked, reading the statuses on Harry’s news feed.

“To keep in contact with friends,” Harry replied. “It’s better for those people who don’t see each other as often as we do.”

“And it’s a muggle website thing isn’t it?” Ron added.

Harry nodded. “Yeah so if you want to make an account don’t go blabbing on about magic.”

Ron grinned. “I think I’ll leave it for now—maybe they’ll make a wizard social site.”

Harry laughed aloud. “That’d be pretty cool. Hogwarts will have its own social site.”

“Can you imagine my dad on something like this?” Ron snickered. “He’d drive mum mental.”

“Kinda like you’re doing to me?” Harry teased, shutting his laptop down.

“Hey! I’m not as bad,” Ron protested.

“Of course not,” Harry winked. “Not you, never you.”

Ron shoved the brunet carelessly off the bed, wrinkling his nose at the way Harry laughed. He threw a pillow as an added measure, rolling his eyes as he did so.

“Just because we’re not all computer savvy,” Ron sniffed.

“It’s alright, I’ll still be your friend,” Harry grinned, hair ruffled and green eyes alight. “You know, I really missed you and Mione over the holidays.”

Ron smiled softly. “Yeah it’s been pretty boring without you guys.”

“So did you miss me or Mione more?” Harry’s smile grew a little more mischievous as he crossed his legs, looking up at his best friend.

Ron’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well it seems to me as if you might hold a special something in your heart for a specific Hermione Granger…” Harry allowed his voice to trail off, his smile widening.

“And if I do?” Ron said defensively, crossing his arms.

Harry’s smile softened. “I think that’s really nice,” he said honestly.

Ron’s eyes widened in amazement. “Won’t—doesn’t this bother you, Harry?”

“Why should it?” Harry frowned. “Even if you guys start dating, we’ll still be friends.”

“Of course we will,” Ron replied immediately. “Just—don’t feel bad if we leave you out of _some_ of our activities.” The red head practically giggled and Harry shuddered at the images that were provoked.

“No, you guys can keep that to yourselves.”

Ron’s smile grew sad then. “That is if she even likes me in that way.”

“You won’t know until you ask,” Harry prodded.

“Why so interested, Harry?” Ron asked.

Harry grinned. “Because I think Mione might like you in return.”

Ron’s eyes brightened with interest. “You think so?” He sat back against the headboard of Harry’s bed, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “What about you, Harry?”

“What? Do I have a crush on you as well?”

Ron snorted. “No, you prat,” he said with a shake of the head. “Do you fancy anyone?”

Harry smiled softly. “Not that I know of,” he replied. Then again, when had anyone shown anything more than a hero’s worship towards him? Liking someone, and being liked in return, was a touchy subject for Harry, especially when many only liked his name and nothing more.

“Hopefully one day, mate,” Ron supplied hopefully.

“Yeah,” Harry grinned wryly. “One day.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to be nice and give you guys the next chapter ^_^ and in case there is any confusion, this story had already been written and I WILL be updating frequently! That I promise!

It was Friday afternoon and Harry was lounging on his bed alone with his laptop. Classes were interesting with the new addition of muggle technology and there had been already many complaints from a certain house.

Harry was currently relaxing before dinner, surfing the web and relishing in the familiar freedom he was only able to access when his relatives left him home by himself. Facebook was fun only for his notifications and a game or two and tonight his few friends were quiet with their news. He’d found Hermione though, and it had made him grin to look over her profile.

However, Harry yearned for something more. Something he could spend his free time on and not get overly bored while waiting for fresh news. Facebook was interesting at times sure, yet Harry longed for a website where he could express himself and not be judged. He wondered if the muggle world had yet created a website where he could post things that reflected his personality—things that no one would be able to relate back to “The Great Harry Potter”.

That’s why it had to be a muggle site. At least then Harry would be able to post and express himself while being treated as if he was like everyone else. And it would be perfect.

Opening _Google_ , Harry began to search for different words to see if that would reveal anything along what he desired. He tried ‘posting’, ‘journal’ and ‘diary like sites’ but nothing seemed to capture his interest. Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Harry wondering what other words he could use to describe what he was looking for.

What else do you call a diary or journal? Especially on the internet… hmm, what did Dudley mention the other day? One of the girls he liked had a blog he wanted to see in the hope that he would have a chance with her…

A blog? Was that what he was looking for?

What was the name of the site? It was a weird name… starting with T?

Harry’s fingers flew across the keyboard. _Blog websites...._ A sudden drop down menu appeared and Harry scanned the potential options.

_Blogging websites free… no. Hmm, Blogging websites for kids… definitely not. Okay here we go, blogging websites like Tumblr… Tumblr! That’s it!_

Excited, Harry searched for Tumblr instead, clicking on the link that appeared and following the prompts. His excitement grew as he realised this was exactly what he was after; a place to be himself, post whatever the hell he wanted and follow others who shared similar tastes.

_Please enter username…_

“Hmm.” Harry bit his lip as he wracked his brain for ideas, rubbing his forehead. His fingers brushed against his scar and a grin began to stretch at his lips.

Lightning-Shaped-Scars.

After all, out of all the blogs on Tumblr, the chance of someone from Hogwarts stumbling across his blog and even managing to connect his username and posts with ‘Harry Potter’ was pretty slim. Besides, it felt good that he’d most likely be the only person on Tumblr with this username.

 

 

Harry spent the next few hours after dinner unearthing the perks of the new website he’d discovered and finding numerous photos to reblog. He searched for similar blogs, following those who seemed to share his interests. Harry was astonished to see just how many people were in fact, like him. He excitement grew when he realised he was being followed in return by many of the blogs he subscribed to.

“This is amazing,” Harry breathed, scrolling through posts on another’s blog. “Why am I only finding this now?”

As he scrolled through numerous posts he paused, eyes drawn to particular intoxicating black and white photo. Two men were tightly entwined, lips locked and eyes closed. Harry bit his lip as he studied them, wondering—not for the first time—what it would be like to kiss another male. Hesitantly, he moved his cursor over the _reblog_ option, clicking on it spontaneously to add it to his own blog.

_It really is beautiful… and who cares if I like guys? At least then I don’t need to put up with the silly nonsense girls bring into a relationship… right?_

Once he had convinced himself that it was alright to prefer men, Harry began reblogging more and more photos that involved half naked gorgeous men alone or with others.

 _Take that wizarding world… your hero likes males!_ Harry thought as he tagged his recent reblog. This particular photo was of a pretty blue-eyed, blond haired young man as he gazed innocently at the camera that was above him. Harry’s eyes tracked endlessly over the pretty skin, wondering if he was as soft as he appeared.

 

* * *

 

 

“Pansy, for the last time, leave me _alone_!”

“But, _Draco_.” She pouted miserably, lifting her laptop in front of her. “You’re the only person worth listening to who knows how to use these things!”

“You still haven’t told us how and why,” Blaise commented dryly. “Since when does a Malfoy play with muggle items?”

“Since his life became exceedingly boring,” Draco snapped in reply. “I’ll help you when I damn well feel like it. Leave me alone. I’m tired.”

“But—”

“Not _now_ , Pans.” Draco sighed in frustration. He picked up his belongings and marched his way upstairs. He was always eternally thankful that Slytherins were given their own rooms. After all, Slytherins don’t share.

Once his door was shut, candles lit and his laptop on and placed carefully on his bed, Draco allowed himself to relax into his pillows, loosening his tie and placing it on the bed beside him. His shoes had already been removed and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. No one, not even his housemates—except maybe Pansy—had seen him so casual and at ease.

Settling his laptop on his thighs Draco typed his password and entered into his settings. Already the wallpaper had been changed to the one he used at home and his icons arranged to how he preferred them. As he opened his internet browser, Draco’s mind began to wander back to when he’d stumbled across his first laptop.

He’d been shopping in muggle London with his mother who seemed quite taken with the jewellery they sold, when he’d passed by a store filled with strange gadgets. He’d stopped to have a closer look, nose crinkling at what the muggles had come up with. When he’d found the laptops, however, his face lost the look of pure distain and he began to look with earnest. It was when the cute sales assistant came forward, explaining which laptops were better and asking what sort of programs Draco was after that the blond found himself seriously considering buying one.

Once Draco had admitted that he wasn’t familiar with how a laptop functioned or what they were really used for, the sales assistant had grinned and begun to explain. Draco was relieved when the pretty male hadn’t asked questions as to why he was so naïve but launched into the obviously rehearsed speech. So Draco listened, raptured with the idea of owning his very own computer. The assistant had also gone on to explain about the internet and how fun it could be.

“There are many things to search,” he had said excitedly. “Whatever holds your interest.”

Satisfied with the information the assistant had offered plus the fact that his mother seemed distracted enough, Draco purchased a pretty white laptop with a black pattern on the lid. He didn’t much care which games he could or could not play, nor did he worry if the hard drive installed was particularly good—as long as he was able to access the internet and all the things the assistant had mentioned that was all that mattered to him.

Adjusting it so it ran on spells instead of that weird power muggles used had been a little tricky. His computer ended up crashing a few times until he figured out the amount of magic he needed without burning out the little bits and bobs inside. Hiding it from his parents had especially been difficult. He’d taken to setting up an alarm to warn him whenever they were near.

As for the internet, Draco managed to acquire a prepaid internet USB device that he could plug into the side of his laptop. He’d been fascinated the first week of using it, discovering many sites that represented different things.

 _These muggles are quite clever in their own strange way…_ Draco had found himself thinking. One of his favourite sites, however, was a blogging site named Tumblr. He was astounded to see that although they may not be wizarding folk, there were many people his age who shared similar interests. He found that he enjoyed a certain type of music called ‘rock’ as well as the occasional classical song.

What he enjoyed the most however, was being able to forget where he was and who he was in favour of being someone else. Someone who was humorous and interesting, someone who didn’t need a mask twenty-four seven. Of course Draco loved being a snarky bastard, especially to those who annoyed him, yet there were times where he was glad he was able to friendly with someone, share opinions and be natural.

Blinking, Draco focused on the screen of his new school laptop. It was slighter smaller than the one he’d bought and nowhere near as pretty. It did the job however, and soon he was back on his account on Tumblr— _Blonds-Do-It-Better_.

With a small private grin, Draco began to scroll through the posts he’d missed, enjoying the wide range of different photos, music and opinions. A smirk curled at his lips when he caught sight of a gorgeous photograph of a blond young man with piercing blue eyes. One of his friend’s he’d gotten to know over Tumblr had reblogged it—and what an exquisite photo it was.

A frown tugged at Draco’s brow when he saw the name of the blog his friend had reblogged it from. _Lightning-Shaped-Scars?_ His eyes widened. _It couldn’t be…_

Clicking on the link, Draco waited patiently for the page to load, eyes scanning the small amount of information that was set on the left hand side.

Harry, Tumblr Newbie, 17, UK.

“I don’t believe it,” Draco breathed. “The Golden Boy has a Tumblr.” He scrolled through Harry’s posts, amused by the fact that their supposed hero liked men as much as he did. “You’re full of surprises, Potter.” He quirked a sleek blond eyebrow as he mused maliciously. “I wonder how much the Daily Prophet would pay to get their hands on this.”

_But then again... I could have an awful lot of fun with this..._

Draco had nothing on his profile that could give him away—not even his name. The only name he went by was his Tumblr name and there were a million and one blond’s in the world. If he were to contact Potter as a friendly follower, he’d no doubt be able to get a whole lot of dirt on the dark haired young man. Dirt that could be used against Potter if the need ever arose... such as a quidditch game that Slytherin wanted to win.

 _Am I really that mean...?_ “Of course I am.” Draco grinned wickedly. “Potter’s luck has finally run out.”

There was sudden gentle knock on his door, a voice quickly following. “Draco? May I come in?”

Draco sighed aloud but minimised the window. He flicked his wand to admit Pansy who entered immediately, laptop clutched to her chest.

“I’m sorry for bothering you downstairs,” she said gently, all trace of a whine gone from her voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco replied. “Come here, Pans, I’ll give you a hand.”

She crossed the floor and perched herself on the edge of the bed.

“It’s not difficult to understand,” Draco began. “I’m surprised I’m the only smart Slytherin.”

“Oh, shut up.” Pansy sniffed. “Excuse us for not divulging in lowly muggle products.”

“Your attitude might change after this,” Draco commented. “Mine did.”

Pansy eyed him suspiciously. “How _do_ you know so much about these laptop things?”

“Because I bought myself one last summer.”

“You did?” Pansy asked in surprise. “Whatever for?”

“Because I wanted something different and I felt like a little teenage rebellion. Because both of my parents are so stuck in their ways that even the tiniest change worries them like nothing else,” Draco replied solemnly. “Pans, you know my parents, you know how they live—I was sick of doing the same.”

“Don’t you like living at the Manor anymore?” Pansy asked worriedly. “I have a spare room if you ever need it, just give the word.”

Draco smiled gently. “Don’t be silly, Pans,” he said amusingly. “I still love my parents but I also know how they’d react to me having a muggle product. The feeling of freedom that comes with owning a muggle laptop though is something else.”

“What are they used for?” Pansy questioned, looking down at the contraption in her arms. The first time she tried switching it on it had beeped loudly and almost blinded her. She had not expected the screen to glow as it did nor was she prepared to try again anytime soon no matter what the Professors said.

“They are used for whatever you want,” Draco replied. “In the muggle world they’re used for various things like making music, things called ‘movies’ and making pictures—ones that move as well like our paintings; they’re called gifs apparently.”

“And what’s the _internet_?” Pansy asked, her eyes widening with each explanation.

A smirk curled at Draco’s lips. “The internet is amazing,” he said simply. “I don’t know how I managed without it.”

“What does it do?”

“I can send you a message which you will get instantly—no owl needed,” Draco said.

“What? How!” Pansy exclaimed.

“Come here and I’ll show you.”

Draco opened a new internet window and directed it to his email homepage. He usually only used it for Tumblr notifications and for sending emails to his closer followers rather than constantly sending them an ‘ask’.

“This is called an email,” Draco explained, rather amused at how enthralled Pansy appeared. “If I make you one we’ll be able to communicate and send each other files.”

“Could we do that a little bit later? I want to see what I can do with mine but the last time I tried... it frightened me.”

Draco snorted and Pansy smacked him on the arm.

“Shh! Don’t laugh.”

“I apologise.” Draco’s tone indicated otherwise but Pansy allowed it to slide. “Have you done the charging spell?” the blond asked instead.

Pansy opened the laptop lid and pulled out her wand, reciting the spell that had been in her booklet. The little green light flashed on beside the power button and Draco nodded, telling her it was fine to switch on. She did so, flinching back slightly in case it tried to blind her again.

“You can adjust the brightness of your screen,” Draco said. “Once we’ve organised your settings.”

“Oh... good,” Pansy said, relief evident in her voice.

A little while later, Pansy was beginning to get the hang of her laptop, typing silly emails to Draco who read them with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, Pans, I get it, you can type and send emails,” Draco said drily. A small smile tugged at his lips nonetheless, happy that his friend had learnt so quickly.

“Thank you, Draco,” Pansy said honestly. “I’ll help keep the hoard back for you now—I don’t mind helping some of the younger years.”

“Thanks,” Draco replied. “The first years’ charm is all but lost on me.”

Pansy sniggered. “That’s not what I’ve heard—apparently, you have a few favourites.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you?”

Pansy’s smile widened but she refused to say. Instead, she snapped her laptop shut and bounced off the bed.

“Oh by the way, now that I know how to, you’ll be getting a lot of pretty male pictures,” Pansy grinned.

Draco smiled and shook his head. “You’re terrible.”

“And I know it.” Pansy blew him a kiss before breezing from his room, closing the door behind her. Draco’s smiled remained on his face; it was difficult to remain annoyed with Pansy for long—especially when she promised pictures of men.

Speaking of which...

Draco flipped back to Potter’s Tumblr page, refreshing the link to see if the raven haired young man had added anything else. Interest flared when Draco saw the new additions— _Potter has pretty good taste..._

His eyebrows rose in surprise when he spotted a text post Harry had posted five minutes earlier.

_“Hiding Tumblr from your best friends because you’re a fearless bastard.”_

So Potter didn’t like sharing the Tumblr secret either? This meant that the Weasel and the Mudblood wouldn’t suspect anything, not even if Draco were to proceed with his plan. He’d have the true Harry Potter all to himself.

Draco sneered at the screen. _Prepare yourself Potter, you’re not going to know what hit you..._

 

* * *

 

 

_Messages (1)_

 

Harry blinked in surprise. He had a message? He clicked on the link and waited for the page to load, smiling when he saw that it was from his latest follower, Blonds-Do-It-Better, with a small, simple message.

“ _Welcome, Tumblr Newbie, how are you?_ ”

Harry felt a pang of excitement shoot through him. One of his followers wanted to get to know him better! He right clicked on the name of his follower, opening their blog in another tab. Blonds-Do-It-Better didn’t have much information in regards to their identity but it did show what age they were, that he was male and where he lived.

 _Finally, someone else who lives in the UK_... Harry smiled softly, scrolling through Blonds-Do-It-Better’s posts. He became amazed at the way this boy posted; he wasn’t ashamed of anything, not even his sexuality. He posted whatever the hell he liked and always stood up against people’s hate comments.

 _I’m glad I don’t have anonymous on..._ Harry thought. _I wouldn’t be able to reply with the smart arse comments this guy does..._

Satisfied that this boy seemed pretty down to earth and genuine, Harry decided to respond to the message through the other male’s Ask Box. His fingers hesitated over the keyboard all the same, slightly nervous in how to reply. He didn’t want to sound like a desperate moron but he wasn’t all that good in sounding normal either.

 _Don’t think just do..._ Harry thought desperately. If he doesn’t like you so what? Just be who you are.

With a determined nod, Harry allowed his fingers free reign over the keys.

 

* * *

 

 

_Messages (1)_

 

A triumphant smile stretched at Draco’s lips as he read Potter’s reply. No suspicion was noted, not that Draco expected any. After all, why would Potter even _consider_ that Draco Malfoy used a laptop let alone have a Tumblr account?

“ _Hi, thanks for the message. I’m not too bad, Tumblr’s proving pretty easy to handle. How long have you had your account?_ ”

Draco smirked, clicking onto Potter’s page. _This was going to be way too easy_...

After checking his emails, he noticed with glee that Potter had followed him in return; the young man had obviously been impressed with Draco’s blog.

 _That’s not all you’re going to be impressed by_... Draco thought snidely as he replied to Potter’s message.

 

* * *

 

 

_~*Hermione*~ says: Won’t you come downstairs now? You’ve been up in your room for ages, whatever are you doing up there?_

_Seeker4Life says: But I’m comfortable!_

 

_~*Hermione*~ says: That’s shouldn’t be an excuse, Harry, come down and spend some time with your friends!_

 

_Seeker4Life says: Fine :(_

 

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend’s reply but felt a sense of satisfaction as he signed off MSN. She wondered what it was that had him so captivated—after all, he was used to having, although limited, access to a computer and the internet. He’d probably stumbled across a new site and was getting a little _too_ attached.

Five minutes later Harry appeared at the foot of the stairs.

“About time,” Hermione said with a sniff. “We do like to see your face you know.”

“Are you sure?” Harry teased, taking a seat beside her on the couch.

“So what’s the site?” Hermione asked.

“W-What?”

“The site or whatever it is that has you so intrigued that you’d rather lock yourself away for hours at a time,” Hermione pressed. “This really isn’t the year to be doing that, Harry, its _N.E.W.T_ year!”

Harry patiently waited for his friend to end her rant. “Yeah, Mione, I know,” he said pointedly. “But the year’s only just started, relax will you? I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be making a study time table for you,” Hermione warned. “For both you _and_ Ronald.”

“I’d be worried if you didn’t,” Harry grinned.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What is this new site? Do I know it?”

Harry’s fingers fiddled. “Well its—”

“Hey, Mione, what do you reckon this means?” Ron suddenly interrupted.

“Seriously, Ronald, you’re not going to understand how to use your laptop if you get me to everything,” Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

Harry offered a silent thanks to whichever god it was who’d interrupted them. As much as he loved Hermione, Tumblr was something he wanted to keep to himself. It was the little piece of him _no one_ knew.

 Well, no one except him and his new muggle followers.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione glanced over and smiled, noticing Harry still in the corner. “It’s nice to see you down here, Harry, instead of locking yourself away in your room.”

Harry looked up from his position on the floor. His back was pressed up against the wall, knees bent and a large book of parchment resting against his thighs. Hermione, of course, was seated at the desk a little way from him, homework spread out in front of her.

“I decided to grace you with my presence,” Harry grinned, looking back down and continuing his work.

“I hope that’s homework you’re doing,” Hermione replied suspiciously. “You look to be enjoying that too much.”

Harry chuckled but shook his head. “No, it’s not homework—I’ve already finished the essay that’s due tomorrow.”

“Yes but what about next week’s homework? And the week after?”

“Mione, I love you, but please remember that I’m not a homework fanatic like yourself,” Harry responded calmly, pencil moving across the parchment with ease. He glanced up again, took in the wave of Hermione’s hair and returned his gaze.

Hermione frowned inquisitively. “Then... what are you doing?”

“Drawing.”

Hermione blinked. “You’re _drawing?_ Since when do you draw?”

“Since... hmm, well I tend to draw more at Private Drive but I’m feeling creative tonight,” Harry said in reply. “Sit still will you? Your hair is painful enough to draw as it is.”

A blush crept up into Hermione’s cheeks. “Harry...” she began, embarrassment obvious.

“Shh! I’m almost done.”

Hermione sat awkwardly still, not sure whether to turn around slowly to continue her homework or continued posing as she was. She opened her mouth to ask Harry when he suddenly sat back, pencil dropping to the floor beside his other artsy tools.

“Done,” he announced with a grin.

“How long were you drawing me?” Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes.

A cheeky glint lit up Harry’s eyes. “For an hour or so.”

“I didn’t even notice!” she exclaimed, getting to her feet. “Can I see?”

“Of course,” Harry said immediately, turning his parchment book around. “What do you think?”

The bushy-haired female blinked once more. “Harry... that’s... I didn’t know you could draw.” She watched the shy smile appear on Harry’s lips. “It’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied, dropping his eyes to gaze at his drawing. “I like drawing people in their element—they always look so natural.”

“Can I put it on my Facebook?” Hermione asked.

Harry frowned. “How? We don’t have any scanners.”

“Actually,” Hermione began with a smile, “the printers in the library have scanners.”

“Dumbledore didn’t mention that during the feast.” Harry pouted.

“I have a feeling he doesn’t know what they are,” Hermione giggled. “I went to print a few documents the other day and noticed they’ve been built with a scanner and they’re pretty simple to use. Makes adding a picture to an assignment that little bit easier.”

“Well then by all means put it on Facebook,” Harry smiled. _And I can add mine to Tumblr... I wonder if my followers will like my drawings?_

“Let me finish this paragraph and we’ll go.” Hermione sat herself back in her chair and picked up her discarded quill, hand beginning to move furiously across the page.

“Haven’t most Professors adapted to receiving printed documents?” Harry asked, watching her closely.

“You obviously haven’t started Professor Snape’s essay,” Hermione smiled wryly. “He states clearly in his instructions that he wants it handwritten and not printed.”

“Prehistoric bugger,” Harry muttered.

“I heard the other day that Malfoy’s trying to change Snape’s opinion of them,” Hermione continued.

“Malfoy? Wanting to make Snape _enjoy a muggle machine_?” Harry replied. “I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t either,” Hermione agreed. “Until I saw it for myself. Malfoy is apparently one of the few Slytherins better acquainted with laptops.”

“This conversation just became even stranger.” Harry pulled an undignified face. “How on earth would Malfoy know anything about laptops?”

“I guess we can’t judge him just by his prejudices,” Hermione snorted elegantly. “Prejudices _indeed_.”

 _I would have never picked Draco Malfoy of all people to actually like a muggle machine..._ Harry thought humourlessly. _Maybe his opinions have changed..._

“Where did you hear this?” Harry asked instead.

“When I was in the library—he was helping Zabini and I overheard some of their conversation,” Hermione replied, finishing off her essay. “There we go, all done.”

“I just need to grab my laptop,” Harry said as he got to his feet with his belongings. “Do you mind keeping this safe while I do?” He held out his parchment book and Hermione accepted it with a smile.

“Of course I’ll keep it safe... as long as I can look through it,” she grinned.

Harry sniggered. “Yeah go ahead.”

Dashing up the stairs, Harry left Hermione alone to gaze through the many pictures he had. She was amazed at the quality of some of them; she had never known Harry was talented in the art department. The book reminded her of an art diary as she flipped through the parchment pages. She was wondering where he had gotten it when her gaze landed on a particularly gorgeous sketch of a dog.

“Oh... Sirius,” she sighed. It was amazingly detailed; Hermione could tell Harry had taken extra care with this particular illustration.

“Ready to go?”

Hermione immediately smiled, carefully closing Harry’s art book. “Of course.” She picked up her own laptop bag from beside the desk and they left together, making the trek to the library where surprisingly, there were very few students.

The printers had been set up near Madam Pince’s desk so she was able to keep a close eye on what exactly the students were printing. With a nod to both Harry and Hermione, Madam Pince left them to do as they needed and the two Gryffindors spent the next few minutes connecting their laptops and transferring the pictures over.

“They came up pretty clear,” Hermione said proudly, examining the drawings on her screen. “This is great.”

“Maybe I should become an artist,” Harry teased. “Who needs Aurors anyway?”

“Maybe you should,” Hermione considered. “You obviously take pleasure in it and you’re naturally talented...”

“Mione, I was joking—”

“And everyone would no doubt buy your work—you’re _Harry Potter_ after all...”

“Mione—”

“But it’s not as if you need the money anyway so it could be a hobby with benefits...”

“Mione! I don’t think being an artist would be the better career option.”

“Potter an artist? I never thought I’d see the day,” a voice sneered from behind them.

“Malfoy enjoying a muggle product? I never thought _I’d_ see the day,” Hermione retorted with a sniff, wiping the smirk from Malfoy’s face. “Come on, Harry, we have better company to keep back in our common room.”

 _If you only knew you filthy muggle-born twit..._ Malfoy thought viciously.

“How come you know so much about laptops, Malfoy?” Harry asked instead, eyeing the blond with curiosity.

 _Get your unnaturally green eyes off me..._ “None of your business, _Potter_ ,” Malfoy practically spat in reply. “Perhaps it’s my natural intellect to always remain on top of _everything_.”

Harry snorted. “I’m sure.” Grabbing his laptop he followed Hermione out of the library. He still had no patience for Malfoy’s rudeness and he wished that just once Malfoy would treat him like an equal rather than dirt.

“Careful, Harry, that’d have to be a miracle,” he half sulked.

 

* * *

 

 

“That was infuriating,” Draco muttered as he connected his laptop to a printer.

His mood began to clear as he found the files he’d saved and began to print them. Being the Slytherin he was, Draco had made sure to collect evidence against Harry just in case the annoying prat decided to ignore Draco’s blackmail. At least with tangible proof he’d be literally able to wave it in Potter’s face.

Satisfied with the documents he now held, Draco shrunk the bundle, bound them together and stuck them in his pocket. Potter may have a great taste in men but it’s not enough to actually want to like the bastard...

“This is still much more fun,” Draco smiled to himself, wondering what sort of questions to ask Lightning-Shaped-Scars this evening. “I wonder if Potter has a crush on anyone here,” he mused. “ _That_ would make a very interesting story.”

“What are you planning, Draco?” Pansy asked snidely, stepping up beside him.

“Nothing you need to know,” the blond replied bluntly. “Leave me to enjoy my fun won’t you?”

Pansy huffed and folded her arms. “You never involve me anymore,” she pouted miserably. “I can be evil as well!”

Draco eyed her curiously. It _might_ be more enjoyable being able to share this with someone…

“I will only fill you in on a few things,” he decided. Because really, it had always been in Draco’s nature not to share and Potter was definitely someone he didn’t like sharing.

_I don’t like sharing Potter? His misfortune was always something I took pleasure in… that must be it…_

“Well?” Pansy questioned, tapping her foot.

“Patience,” Draco said in reply as he shut down his laptop. “I will inform you once we are back in our common room.”

“That top secret, hmm? Why can’t you tell me now? There’s no one around, come on, Draco, I’d do the same for—”

“For the sake of my sanity, Pansy, you will shut up now,” Draco grumbled. _Merlin, give me patience…_

Pansy stared at him imploringly until Draco gave in and sighed. Gripping her arm, the blond led her to particularly shadowed corner. He glared with distain but Pansy could recognise the resignation in Draco’s pale eyes and she smirked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m screwing around with Potter,” he said finally.

Pansy’s eyes widened. “You’re _what??_ ” she hissed. “Draco! Since when?!”

Draco slapped a hand over his eyes. “Not in _that_ way you twat!” Shaking his head, he glared down at the dark haired Slytherin whose eyes were still wide. “I meant that I’m messing with his head. I’ve discovered a way to talk to him without him realising it’s me.”

Pansy’s heart began to calm, her breath returning as the initial shock of what Draco had said diminished.

“Okay, alright,” she began. “That sounds a little more like you. So what’s the deal then? How is this possible?”

“Just through a muggle site we both use,” Draco replied dismissively. “Nothing important. The important part is that I am able to find things out about the Golden Boy that people don’t even realise.” The smirk returned to his lips. “Some very interesting things.”

“And?” Pansy whispered earnestly.

“And that’s it for now,” Draco finished. “I’m having too much fun with this to have you accidently get ahead of yourself and blab something.”

Pansy sniffed. “As if I would.” But she did not press further. “Alright, fine but if something extremely juicy is revealed I want _in_.”

“We’ll see,” Draco scoffed as he checked his watch. “Come on let’s go, I have some questions I want answered from our supposed Hero.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Messages (1)_

 

 

Harry’s smile was wide as he opened up his messages page.

 

“ _No I’m not an overly massive fan of sports although my father wishes I was. Not that it matters, I live the way I choose and I prefer it that way. Speaking of which you seem pretty open yourself, it’s refreshing to see a man open about his sexuality. Is there a beloved partner to be thanking for this?”_

 

Harry bit his lip. _A beloved partner? He didn’t mean a boyfriend did he…?_ He sighed deeply. There was no one who had ever held a real fascination for Harry, no one passionate enough to catch his eye. Well there was _one_ but... no, it was better to just ignore that and bury it deeply.

Extremely deeply.

 

* * *

 

 

_Messages (1)_

“ _I like being able to express myself on Tumblr where no one can really judge me. And a boyfriend? No, not at the moment... makes it hard because many people don’t know I’m gay.._.”

 

“That’ll change soon enough.” Draco rolled his eyes impatiently. “You waste all of your obnoxious confidence on me but you can’t admit to your friends who you really are? Who’s false now, Potter?” His fingers smashed against the keyboard a little roughly as he typed out his reply, already frustrated with Potter’s personality. “Honestly, who _would_ date you?”

Draco sent back his reply and returned to his dashboard, scrolling through many stimulating posts that assisted in calming his simmering anger. Draco wasn’t even sure why he was so upset over Potter’s admission. Honestly, it made it better that the Wizarding world wasn’t aware their Golden Boy was bent. It would make his humiliation _much_ greater.

So why was this information not making Draco feel any better?

_Probably because once everyone knows, I won’t be the secret keeper any more…_

“Shut up, shut up!” Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly before glaring blearily at the laptop screen. He refreshed his dashboard, breath catching in his throat when he saw the new posts.

 _Holy shit… maybe Potter_ should _be an artist..._

“That can’t be right,” Draco murmured, eyes glued to the drawings displayed on screen. “This isn’t _fair!_ What the hell am I meant to say about those?! They’re fucking _amazing_.”

 

_Messages (1)_

 

“ _Yeah you’re right, I do need to admit who I really am; I truly don’t think my friends will mind. On a more positive note, do you have any hobbies? I prefer drawing myself. I posted a couple of them—let me know what you think?”_

 

“It’s not going to kill you to answer truthfully,” Draco mumbled to himself. _Yeah but it might ruin my reputation if this ever gets out_ … “Whatever, so I recognise he has talent, big deal.” Still, Draco felt strangely nervous as he replied to Harry’s message and he couldn’t help but glance around his room to make sure he was alone before sending it.

“Pansy’s going to kill me,” he grumbled, pressing the ‘ask’ button. “How dare I give Potter a compliment.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh my god.”

“What? What is it?”

“They’ve found me.”

“They’ve what?”

“They’ve found me!”

Harry groaned as he flung himself back against his pillows. “I should have seen it coming,” he moped.

Hermione gazed at his screen, rolling her eyes at the many friend requests he now had on his Facebook. “Oh please, Harry, it could be worse.”

“They’re going to find you as well, you know,” Harry warned. “You’ll have ickle first years liking and commenting on _everything_ you post.”

Giggling, Hermione scrolled through the list of names, recognising many from their own house. “Hey look, Dean has a Facebook as well.”

“Oh, well I’ll befriend him,” Harry replied, sitting up to take a look. “Nice picture,” he grinned. “I wonder if Ron knows?”

Hermione eyed the photo with an amused expression; Dean and Ginny were kissing rather intensely in his display photo, something, she was sure, Ron would not find appealing whatsoever.

“Let’s just hope Ronald never wants a Facebook,” she finally stated.

“Ginny hasn’t mentioned that Dean has a camera—I wonder what sort it is,” Harry pondered. “I’m thinking of getting one and putting more photos onto my Facebook, what do you reckon?”

“It’d be nice to have some photos with you guys,” Hermione replied honestly. “But the last time I checked there were only a few wizarding cameras around and none of them were compatible with our laptops.”

“How long ago was that? And it doesn’t matter; I’m sure I could buy a regular muggle digital camera and adjust it so it doesn’t explode near Hogwarts with all of the magic.” Harry chuckled humorously. “That would be pretty funny though.”

“Oh yes, _terribly_ funny,” Hermione mocked.

“Mione, you’re a girl, it’s not meant to be funny,” Harry clarified with a smirk. “Now what the hell am I meant to do with all of these friend requests? I don’t even _know_ most of them!”

“Then don’t add them,” Hermione said simply. “Add only who you want.”

“But they’ll never give up!” Harry groaned. “I hate groupies.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. _“Groupies_ , oh my god I can just imagine them following you around for an autograph.”

“They’ll be fighting to be the first ones to comment on the things I post.” Harry snorted. “No, you’re right, it’s better if I just ignore them.”

“It’s alright, I’ll protect you from your groupies.” Hermione grinned.

“Promise?” Harry smiled hopefully.

“I promise,” the bushy haired brunette giggled.

“Where’s Ron this evening?” Harry asked as he ignored many of the friend requests he had.

“Probably surfing the internet,” Hermione replied, sitting back down beside her own laptop. “I have a feeling he’s discovered the more... interesting... side of the net.”

Harry glanced at her blankly. “Interesting?” His eyes widened. “ _Oh..._ ” He bit his lip to stifle a laugh. “I didn’t even think he’d find stuff like that!”

“He’s a typical teenage boy, Harry, how could he not?” Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes. “You guys can be so dense sometimes.”

“Shut up I am not,” Harry huffed. “Excuse me for thinking my best friend was better than that.”

Hermione snorted but smiled, stealing one of Harry’s pillows to lean against. From her position at the end of the bed, they could see each other but not what they were looking at on their screens. She didn’t mind of course, she’d positioned herself on purpose so they were able to still talk but respect each other’s privacy.

With a glance at her best friend, Hermione opened a new tab and clicked on one of her saved links. Her Tumblr dashboard appeared and she scrolled greedily through the posts she’d missed with a hidden smile. Although she felt sort of bad that she’d kept this website secret from Harry, the idea of having her own secret blog made up for it.

She’d discovered Tumblr a year ago from a friend via Facebook whose posts would show up on her newsfeed. After clicking on the link and having a look at what her friend did, Hermione’s excitement grew to the point where she had made one herself. For the first few weeks, Hermione had become obsessed with the website, following new people, reblogging posts, and discovering she wasn’t the only one to do certain things. It wasn’t until she realised she had mountains of homework to do and only a week left of holidays to do it in, Hermione had regretfully decided to back off slightly and save her blogging for her free time.

With her homework done for this evening however and the weekend the next day, Hermione saw no reason why she couldn’t spend most of her night doing what she loved.

Little did she know that Harry was doing exactly as she was, scrolling through his latest posts and smiling at the many notes his drawings had. He noticed with excitement that he had a few questions in his ask but decided to leave them until later after he’d seen most of the new posts.

The two Gryffindors continued in companionable silence, both Tumblring and yet not knowing the other had discovered the site as well. Hermione’s next page of posts had finished loading and she was scrolling down when she came across a drawing that looked extremely familiar.

_Crashing-Waterfalls reblogged Lightning-Shaped-Scars._

Hermione looked up at Harry whose gaze was intent on his screen, a small smile tugging at his lips. _Lightning-Shaped-Scars..._

Heart pounding, Hermione clicked on the link and followed it to Harry’s supposed blog. After reading the information on the side, Hermione’s suspicion was confirmed.

“You have a _Tumblr!_ ” Hermione suddenly shrieked.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat as he looked over at her. “But—I—how do you know?”

“Because I have one as well!” Hermione folded her arms and glared. “You didn’t tell me!”

“You didn’t tell me either!” Harry retorted.

“I didn’t think you were the blogging type,” Hermione sniffed as Harry rolled his eyes. “I was... protecting you.”

“I’m sure,” Harry sniggered. “Are you going to follow me now?” he asked curiously.

“Only if you follow me in return,” the brunette challenged in reply. “Be warned though, your dashboard might be filled with rainbows and kittens.”

Harry grinned. “Does that mean I can I return that favour with photos of half naked men?” Despite the challenge in his voice, Harry’s heart was pounding a mile a minute, worried how Hermione was going to react to this sudden news.

“Half naked...” Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Harry James Potter, you never told me you liked men! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! Your _best friend!_ ”

Harry’s smile was a relieved one as he grinned over at the frazzled female. “Sorry,” he said genuinely. “You would have found out anyway when you follow me so be thankful I told you now.”

Hermione glared. “You _should_ have told me _sooner_. Seriously, I can’t believe you’ve kept this from both Ron and I.”

“Well it hasn’t been for that long,” Harry replied awkwardly. “I started thinking I might like guys during the summer holidays but I... I wondered if it might have been a phase or something. Since finding Tumblr though, I know now that I really do prefer males.”

“I could have helped you figure it out,” Hermione said. “I could have found you a date! I have a few muggle friends who are gay.”

“You—you do?” Harry said with surprise.

“Yes of course,” Hermione continued exasperatedly. “Why so shocked? You thought I’d hate people who are gay?”

“I didn’t know what to expect,” Harry replied softly. “The Dursleys...”

“Don’t believe _anything_ those people tell you,” Hermione said strongly. “Liking the same sex is _not_ a bad thing, Harry, you are free to love and like whoever you prefer.”

Harry’s heartbeat was calm now, beating softly in his chest as the realisation that Hermione wasn’t going to hate him forever sunk in.

“Thank you, Mione,” he smiled. “Do you think Ron will be as understanding?”

“He doesn’t hate Neville, does he? And Neville likes men as well,” Hermione pointed out.

“That’s true.” Harry tapped a finger against his lips. “Okay, I’ll tell Ron as well.”

“He’d like that,” Hermione smiled gently. “The only thing I can imagine him doing is being mad at you for not telling him sooner.”

“Just like you,” Harry smirked. “You guys should date, you’re so in tune.”

A blushed crept into Hermione’s cheeks. “Don’t be silly, Harry,” she said. “As if Ron would.”

Realisation hit Harry hard that he blinked. “You have no idea, do you?”

“About what?” Hermione frowned.

The grin that Harry threw her way was brilliant, his green eyes brightening immensely. “Ro-on likes you, Ro-on likes you,” he sang.

“You’re joking,” Hermione accused.

“I would never!” Harry huffed. “He told me so the first night we came back.”

“But why would Ron like _me?_ ” Hermione pressed. “He didn’t even see me as a _girl_ until _fourth_ _year_.”

“Probably for the same reason _you_ like _him_ ,” Harry replied casually. “I’m not joking, Mione, I promise.”

Hermione still looked doubtful but Harry was determined to get his best friends together. They deserved to be happy.

“If he were to ask you out somewhere, would you go?” Harry asked.

“I—um, maybe?”

“Mione...”

“Okay, yes I would but it’s not going to happen,” Hermione said.

 _We’ll see_... Harry thought smugly. “I’m going to be gloating when you two start dating.”

Hermione brushed aside his jibe and instead decided to change the subject. “Your drawings are very popular.”

“Yeah I’m surprised,” Harry smiled. “I can’t believe I already have over a three hundred notes.”

“People know quality when they see it,” Hermione winked; glad to see it was Harry’s turn to blush. “Hey, who’s _Blonds-Do-It-Better_?” she asked as she looked through Harry’s blog. “You re-post heaps of his stuff.”

“A guy I met,” Harry replied with a soft smile.

“On Tumblr?”

“Yeah.”

“Aww, Harry has a Tumblr crush,” Hermione giggled. “Is he nice?”

“To me,” Harry chuckled. “He has this killer attitude against people who annoy him; I wish I had his confidence.”

“Hmm...” Hermione pondered. “I think I might follow him, he has some amazing photos.”

“I know you just want him for his naked men pictures, Mione, you don’t have to lie.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

 

* * *

_Curls-Cats-and-Consistency started following you_.

 _Heh, another follower..._ Draco thought. “How many is that now? Eight thousand?”

Clicking on the link, Draco found himself on a rather feminine looking page with one of Potter’s drawings as their latest reblog.

_Hmm... I guess that answers how they found me..._

He moved his gaze to the side bar, reading the long piece of information that stretched down the entire side of his screen.

_Extreme bookworm... female... loves cats... hates sport... constant studier... bloody hell she sounds like Granger._

Draco’s eyes widened. _Granger! For the love of God are you serious?_

“Wait a minute, unless Potter has suddenly decided to come out, would he really allow her to view his profile?” Draco frowned. _Maybe he’s admitted he likes men..._ Draco’s frown became even more intense. _And what does it matter? Stop sulking!_

“I’m not sulking,” Draco argued with a mumble. “So what if Granger knows that Potter’s gay?”

 _Who cares that Potter drew a picture of Granger yet he doesn’t even look at you..._ Draco’s subconscious added.

“He’s talking to me now though,” Draco pouted.

 _But he doesn’t know it’s you... if he did he’d block you faster than when he catches the snitch_...

“No doubt,” Draco agreed, sighing loudly. “Thus humiliating him is the only option.”

_If you say so..._

 

* * *

 

The breeze was warm against Harry’s skin, the sun bright overhead. It was a gorgeous Saturday afternoon and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all lounging outside beside a large tree. They weren’t the only students out enjoying the sun either, many from different houses sat in various spots on the grass, stretching all the way back up to the castle.

Harry had his parchment book open and leaning against his legs, back pressed up against the tree trunk and pencil moving carelessly. He wasn’t paying much attention to what he was drawing but he liked the way the patterns swirled down the side. A laugh from Hermione had his gaze moving and he smiled at the easy way Hermione and Ron seemed to be talking.

He had honestly missed this, relaxing with his friends and not worrying about anything else.

“Hey, Harry, we’re going to head inside and grab something for lunch to bring out, did you want anything?” Ron asked suddenly, getting to his feet and brushing off blades of grass.

“Yeah sure, I’m not fussed.” Harry smiled. “Anything will do.”

“We’ll be back soon,” Hermione promised.

Harry watched them leave, their hands so close they could have been holding hands. _How on earth could Mione be so blind…?_

Moving his gaze away, Harry studied the landscape for some inspiration for his next drawing. His eyes drifted over smiling students and gently swaying trees until an unfamiliar laugh had him searching across the field.

Malfoy sat at another tree with Pansy, Theo and Blaise relaxing around him. One of them had obviously said something funny as a genuine smile had brightened the blond’s face, his eyes alight with pleasure.

 _Why can’t Malfoy look at me like that…?_ Harry thought miserably.

A suddenly idea hit him. It was a terrible and no doubt dangerous idea, yet the more Harry argued with himself the more he wanted to do it.

_Although Malfoy will never smile at me like that, I can still draw him that way…_

Biting his lip, Harry sharpened his pencil, turned over a new page and began to draw.

 

* * *

 

Draco yawned widely as he stepped into his room. The day had been almost perfect, sitting out in the sun with his friends; what a shame it had been at school and not at the manor. It didn’t help that Potter had been sitting near them, obviously creating more drawings. Draco had been sorely tempted to find out who or what it was he was drawing, maybe even chide him a little, enough for a heating argument. They hadn’t had one for a while now, it was rather saddening.

 _That’s because you can’t find anything to argue about_ … the voice in his head stated. _You like this peaceful truce don’t you…?_

Draco snorted. “My life is a complete bore, why the hell would I like it?”

He ignored anything else his little voice had to say and instead logged onto his laptop, following the same steps he did every day until both his email and Tumblr were up and running on separate tabs.

_I wonder if Potter uploaded that picture he drew today…? Only one way to find out…_

Draco went through his friends and found Potter, clicking through to his page. There were no drawings displayed so Draco began to scroll, ignoring most of the posts. Determined, Draco went back a page in Harry’s blog, keeping an eye on when the posts had been uploaded or reblogged.

Just as the blond was about to give up and return to his own dashboard, his eyes fell upon Harry’s latest drawing, breath suddenly lost.

“Fuck… me…” Draco breathed.

His eyes softened as he gazed over the picture Harry had drawn of him. The blond had never really been fond of self-portraits but this—this was something else entirely. The elegant way that Potter had captured his natural essence was astounding to say the least and Draco was finding it difficult to remember why he hated Potter in the first place.

The Golden Boy was certainly not who Draco assumed he was and it startled the blond to no end. He was beginning to find that the brunet’s presence didn’t even annoy him anymore and where Draco had always been able to find something wrong with Potter’s appearance, there were now small details that Draco found... appealing.

“Oh god… I’m falling for Potter,” Draco whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

“You have to be joking.”

Draco looked away and glared as he folded his arms defensively. He was thoroughly regretting inviting Pansy to his room to discuss the Potter issue.

“Draco, do you realise that it will never work?”

“Who say’s I want it to?” Draco spat back.

Pansy’s lips curled. “You can’t admit you might be falling for Potter and then immediately deny it.”

“Well I don’t know!” Draco suddenly exploded. “It’s fucking _Potter_! It’s probably a phase or something, it _has_ to be.”

Pansy shrugged her elegant shoulders. “Maybe you’re right. This entire thing couldn’t possibly be normal; perhaps you’re experiencing a strange thing called _hormones_.” She sneered at her best friend. “Draco, I love you, whether you like Potter or not. But you and him? Honestly?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Draco sighed, suddenly weary. “I don’t know why I thought I might like him.”

“Why do you?” Pansy frowned. “Last week you wanted to embarrass him like nothing else.”

A flush crept up into Draco’s cheeks. “I still do,” he protested.

“I’m sure.” Pansy smiled. “So what was it? What has Potter done?”

“Nothing, he’s done nothing,” Draco said impatiently.

“Liar,” Pansy smirked. “I _will_ find out what he did to woo the great Ice Prince.”

Draco rolled his pale eyes. His gaze hovered over the drawer where the picture Potter had drawn of him—that Draco had secretly printed off—was hidden. He’d studied the drawing intently for hours, constantly in wonder with how Potter visualised him.

Did he really seem that peaceful? Nobody but Pansy had ever seen through his mask before and yet Potter had captured such happiness and even some vulnerability in just a simple expression. Draco wasn’t sure whether he liked this look or if it showed too much weakness.

_A Malfoy is in control of his emotions every hour of every day whether he is aware of it or not…_

_I’ve been caught…_ Draco thought miserably. _By the last person I expected…_

Draco was at a loss. It went against everything he had enforced over the years he’d been at Hogwarts. Priority One in his Badass Attempts had been to annoy the fuck out of Potter and belittle him with any means necessary.

 _It must be the shock from the picture_ … Draco argued with himself. _Why would Potter draw me anyway? Shits and giggles?_

“Draco? Darling?”

Draco blinked, shifting his gaze back to Pansy who stared at him with—pity?

“You stop that right now,” he snapped. “I don’t need you feeling sorry for me because my hormones are on the fritz; I’ll be fine.”

“And Potter?” Pansy questioned. “What are you going to do?”

“Ignore him,” Draco replied snobbishly. “I must be out of my mind to have thought I was falling from him. He’s an arrogant, self-loving, boorish Gryffindor.”

“All that and more.” Pansy’s smile bordered on a smirk but Draco decided to ignore her jibes. “Why don’t you take a break tonight from whatever it is you’re doing to get back at the Golden Boy and come downstairs?”

Draco glanced at his laptop. He always hated not going on and neglecting his blog—he constantly felt as if he was missing out on something.

“Maybe,” he said. “I have other hobbies than annoying Potter.”

“Uh huh,” Pansy giggled. “Well the offer’s open. We miss seeing you downstairs.” Her smile turned into a grimace. “The first years are beginning to get a little out of hand.”

“Why, Pansy,” Draco began with a grin. “Can’t you handle the little first years all by yourself?”

“I can.” She frowned. “But they’re frightened of you more.”

 _A fact I’m rather proud of…_ Draco thought snidely. “I may grace you with my presence soon. I have some things to do first.”

Pansy refrained from rolling her eyes. “Anything I can get you, your majesty?” She held up a hand before Draco could reply to that. “Don’t you dare,” she glared. “I was joking.”

Draco chuckled. “Then stop tempting me.”

“Merlin have mercy on Potter if you really _do_ like him,” Pansy shot back, grinning evilly as Draco’s expression soured. She rushed to her feet to avoid the pillow he threw towards her and she skipped joyfully to the door. “ _Draco likes Potter, Draco likes Potter_ ,” she sang, stepping out in the corridor.

“Goddamn you, Pansy!” Draco snarled, flicking his wand to slam the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

Draco poked moodily at his breakfast as he hid a yawn. Although he openly denied it, Draco had not slept well the previous evening and his temper was a fuse away from breaking. His dreams had been plagued with Potter who had teased him mercilessly as his feelings were discovered. Despite Draco trying desperately to ignore the visions, he’d tossed and turned while he shared a heated debate with himself on whether his feelings were real. The blond honestly loathed the dark haired Gryffindor for making him feel this way; how dare Potter not be what Draco assumed!

“Draco?”

“What?” he grumbled, allowing his fork to fall to his plate.

“You look exhausted, maybe you shouldn’t go to class today,” Pansy suggested, concern for her friend evident in her eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” Draco replied. “It’s nothing a little Pepper Up won’t fix.”

“From Pomfrey?” Pansy frowned.

Draco snorted. “Are you daft? From Severus of course.”

“He’s not at the table,” Pansy pointed out. “You might be able to catch him before class.”

“Maybe I will,” Draco said haughtily, remaining in his seat.

“Well?” Pansy prodded.

“I’ll go when I want too!” Draco huffed, glaring daggers at his half eaten breakfast.

“ _Merlin_ you’re grumpy when you don’t sleep well,” Pansy moped.

“Don’t like it? Go away,” Draco replied, picking his fork back up and stabbing at his food. A sudden slap to the back of his head had him dropping his utensil and turning wide eyes to the female beside him. “What was _that for?_ ”

“What do you think?” Pansy sneered. “Stop being such a prat and go see Snape right now. I am _not_ putting up with your attitude today.” She glared until he relented, watching him grab his bag and stalk out of the Great Hall. With a snort she turned back to her breakfast. “Prissy blond.”

 

* * *

 

Harry watched Malfoy storm away from his table and raised his eyebrows in curiosity. He wondered what it was that had annoyed the blond this morning; he rarely saw the snarky Slytherin so worked up unless they were arguing. He had to stifle a smile though when he’d seen Parkinson smack him on the back of the head. Harry had a feeling that she was the only one able to get away with that.

Still… Harry wondered how his life would have turned out is Malfoy wasn’t such a git…

“I wonder what’s up Malfoy’s arse this morning?” Ron muttered. “The toast was probably too brown or something.”

Chuckling at Ron’s comment, Harry allowed his thoughts to drift, thinking back to the first moment he had ever met Draco Malfoy. Harry didn’t think he would have found Malfoy so rude if he hadn’t known Dudley. After all, Malfoy had reminded Harry of his cousin to the point where it was almost scary. Harry _did not_ want to be stuck in a new school with the likes of his cousin.

Harry sighed softly, imagining a world where snarky blond’s were perfectly polite and charming.

_Maybe one day…_

 

* * *

 

Draco glared at Professor Snape’s private room door. He’d waited the appropriate amount of time to be respectful and Snape had yet to allow him inside. Instead, Draco whipped out his wand, dissolved the wards protecting the door as if they were nothing but spindly webs and entered.

“Professor?” he grunted impatiently. “Sev?”

The oily haired professor could not be seen, yet Draco could hear signs of life coming from another room. The door was ajar, revealing a strip of light and the tell-tale clicks of fingers against a keyboard to filter through. With a roll of his annoyed silver eyes, Draco marched to the door, pushing it open.

“ _Professor_ ,” Draco stressed. He stopped and paused, eyes widening slightly at the sight of his godfather hunched over his laptop, eyes focused on the screen. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Draco?” the older man scoffed. “I do believe it is called ‘ _surfing the internet_ ’ as you so eloquently put it.”

“Yes,” Draco coughed, fighting back a laugh. “But you also made it quite clear that you’d give Potter an _Outstanding_ before you ever used that thing.”

“Don’t you have class?” Snape sniped shrewdly, lowering the lid of his computer to glare at the young man.

“I apparently need peppering up,” Draco sneered in reply. “And I refuse to go to Pomfrey.”

“Of course you do.” Severus rolled his eyes, waving a hand in the direction of his private storeroom. “You know where they are.” He returned to his screen, adjusting it to his preferred position. Draco was curious as to what it was the professor was so interested in but he decided against snooping. If caught, he didn’t want to imagine the sort of horrible thing he’d see… or his godfather’s reaction.

Finding his preferred potion, Draco forced it down, savouring the immediate effects he felt as it passed through his body. Gone was the urge to yawn and slump. Instead his eyes brightened and he felt a new sense of urgency to do things.

 _Like annoy the piss out of Potter_ … Draco thought with a cheeky grin. _We haven’t had a good argument in a while and I love stirring him up…_ _His eyes when they’re enraged, mmmm…_

Draco blinked. “Don’t you dare,” he growled at his subconscious. “We’re annoying him and that’s it.”

“Please refrain from talking to yourself whilst around me,” Snape muttered. “It is exceedingly distracting.”

“What a shame you don’t have much of a life to be distracted from,” Draco murmured softly, hoisting his bag strap over his shoulder. “May I remind you that you have class in five minutes?”

Snape cursed under his breath, fingers skimming over his keyboard almost lovingly.

“You do know those are portable, yes?” Draco pointed out. “Just bring it with you for Merlin’s sake; we can handle ourselves.”

The dark haired man nodded absentmindedly, eyes still glued to the screen.

“Sev? Severus!”

“What is it?” Snape frowned.

“You. Have. Class. Now,” Draco bit out. “Take the stupid thing with you.”

“Oh, yes… right.” The Potions Master cleared his through awkwardly. “Go ahead, Draco, I’ll be a few minutes.”

Without a further backwards glance, Draco left his godfather’s private rooms and began for the dungeons. _Maybe I can mess with Potter’s potion… I haven’t exploded his cauldron for a while…_

 

* * *

 

“Are you _sure_ it was Malfoy, Harry?” Hermione frowned, handing her best friend a towel she’d transfigured.

“Yes,” Harry snarled, wiping the goop from his face as students filed out of the classroom around them. “It’s _always_ him!”

“If I didn’t know he already hated you I’d assume he had a crush on you or something,” Ron muttered. “He’s always trying to get your attention one way or another.”

 “I wish he’d leave me the _fuck_ alone!” Harry raged. “I’m sick and tired of this!”

“Do you think you should go to the Hospital Wing, Harry?” Hermione asked instead. “You might react to the altered combination of ingredients.”

“God, I don’t even care,” Harry replied. “Let me grow boils; I’m going back to the common room.”

“Harry!” Hermione scolded. “You can’t do that! You have Divination!”

“Don’t care,” Harry said bluntly. “If Trelawney cares that much I’ll tell her I wasn’t feeling well.”

“She’ll associate it with your death.” Ron grinned. “Her predictions are becoming a lot more fun, especially when the class starts giving her ideas about what could happen.”

“Oh for the love of…” Hermione sniffed and folded her arms. “Whatever, I’ll see you guys at lunch.” She grabbed her bag and marched out of the classroom leaving the two males behind.

“Have I gotten all of the crap off my face?” Harry pouted at the red head. “I can’t believe how much it stinks.”

“Hang on there’s some in your hair.” Ron snagged the towel from Harry’s hand and removed the last bit of gloopy potion, smirking at the brunet as he did. “If you do grow boils you’ll show me first, yeah?”

Harry glared and snatched the towel back. “I’ll give you boils in a minute.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Ron smiled. “See you at lunch then?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, rubbing his forehead. A dull pain had blossomed behind his eyes. _Tension headache no doubt_ … Harry thought with frustration. _Fucking Malfoy…_

Ron, oblivious as always, waved his friend goodbye and left for class. Harry followed soon after, trekking back up to his room where he dumped his stuff and headed towards the bathroom. He cringed as he switched on the light. Already his eyes were aching from the throb that sat just behind them.

 _Fucking potion… fucking Malfoy… why, why, WHY_ _does he feel the need to make my life a living hell?_

Harry scowled at his reflection. A dark haired, green eyed, scrawny teenage boy with wire glasses scowled back. _No wonder Malfoy teases me…_ Harry thought angrily. _It’s so much easier to tease somebody when they don’t look as good as you do…_

_Fucking Malfoy…_

As his headache gave a particular painful twinge, Harry decided to go to bed. He was only missing Divination and he had a free period after lunch; he really could not be bothered going down to eat. Instead, he toed off his shoes, relaxed in bed, switched his laptop on and went straight to his dashboard. Although his headache grew monstrous from the glare of the screen, Harry was comforted by the messages he’d received about his drawings. On here he wasn’t some scarred weirdo who only succeeded because he got lucky. He had actual talent that he could show with pride and it made him happy to see so many people admiring him.

_I wish I looked as good as people might imagine me as…_

Maybe it was time for a change. After all, he’d kept the same appearance since well… ever. It was time for a fresh image. Maybe if he invested in some contacts or something? Perhaps new clothes? Hardly anything he owned was actually _his_ ; it was definitely time to get off his butt and create his own image.

 _Maybe during the Christmas holidays…_ he smiled, pulling his duvet up to his chin. _I’ll probably need at least a week to choose a pair of pants…_

What he really needed was some advice about clothes. He had no idea where to start let alone what looked good or not. Who would be ask? There was no way in hell he’d ask Ron, the poor red-head’s fashion sense was just as bad as Harry’s.

Maybe he could ask Hermione? _She’d probably make me wear blazers or something…_

Harry sniggered as he scrolled down his dashboard. _I love Mione to death and all but shopping together…? She’d probably hate me for not asking for her fashion advice… she would make an awesome fag-hag though…_

Catching sight of a rather drool worthy blond, a sudden idea flashed through his mind. Why couldn’t he get advice from some of his followers? He’d save some dignity at least.

His headache suddenly roared, his skull positively _aching_ as it thumped. He rubbed his temples tiredly as he considered shutting down his computer. His fashion advice could wait until tomorrow when his headache would hopefully be gone.

Once his laptop screen went black, Harry lowered the lid and placed it aside along with his glasses. He unbuttoned his shirt, dropped it to the floor and wriggled out of his school pants. He warded his door to warn anyone who approached to leave him alone and snuggled down into his blankets, pulling them high.

The pounding in his skull dimmed only slightly but he forced himself to ignore it as he closed his eyes. If his headache got any worse he’d go see Madam Pomfrey first thing tomorrow. Knowing Hermione, she was probably right about the altered ingredients.

_Fucking Malfoy…_


	6. Chapter 6

The sun filtered in through the slightly parted curtains and landed directly over Harry’s eyes. As he woke, the headache he’d hoped would disappear flared into life and he cringed instinctively.

“God _damn_ it!” he groaned miserably. “ _For fucks sake._ ”

He rolled out of bed, swaying unsteadily for a minute before stumbling for the bathroom. He made his way slowly to the sink so he was able to splash some water onto his overly hot face. Gripping the porcelain tightly, Harry clenched his eyes shut as he lowered his head, focusing on his breathing. His stomach swirled unpleasantly and his suppressed his lips into a taut line.

_Don’t you dare. I refuse to be sick…_

After a few tense minutes where Harry wasn’t sure whether his stomach was going to cooperate or not, he managed to stagger back to bed and slide in beneath the duvet. Class seemed completely irrelevant whilst his head was being destroyed from the inside; hopefully Hermione would come to check up on him and she’d be able to suggest something.

Pulling his blankets up and over his head, Harry lay with his eyes shut and a miserable pout tugging at his lips. He always hated feeling ill; he’d never had anyone to take care of him whenever he was. The Dursleys never seemed to care and although he was sure Hermione and Ron would attempt to make him feel better, there was really nothing they could do but pat him on the shoulder.

A sudden overwhelming urge to cuddle something overcame Harry and he pulled his pillow down vertically, hugging it tightly to his chest and wishing—not for the first time—that it was somebody else.

 

* * *

  

“Should we go check on him?” Hermione said in concern, glancing up and down the corridor. “I don’t think he’s left his room since yesterday afternoon.”

“He might have slept in,” Ron suggested. “He might be on his way down now.”

“But what if he’s not?” Hermione pressed. “What if that potion made him unwell?”

Ron sniggered. “Boils.” He grinned.

“Ronald! This is serious!” Hermione glared, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. “Harry never misses breakfast; I’m going to go make sure he’s alright. Are you coming?”

“I can’t promise not to laugh if he has boils though.” Ron chuckled, earning yet another glare from Hermione. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave him alone,” he finished, lifting his hands in surrender.

“We only have ten minutes before class starts, I just hope it’s nothing serious,” Hermione murmured as they started back for their common room. “I don’t remember seeing what it was that Malfoy added to Harry’s cauldron.”

“Knowing Malfoy it was probably something lethal,” Ron grumbled.

“Let’s hope for Harry’s sake that it wasn’t,” Hermione replied stonily, jogging up a staircase. “Hurry up, Ron!”

“It’s not going to kill you if you miss a few minutes of class,” Ron panted, trying to keep up. “Besides, what if Harry really _is_ unwell and needs our help? Will you ditch him for class?”

“Of course I won’t.” Hermione frowned. “But at least then we’ll have a valuable excuse for not going. I don’t want to get in trouble regardless.”

“Of course not,” the red head snorted.

There were only few morning stragglers roaming around the common room when they entered but Hermione didn’t bother pausing to tell them to hurry. Instead, she tugged Ron up the staircase to Harry’s door, knocking on it gently.

“Harry? Are you still here?” she called softly. She tried the handle, relieved to find it unlocked and she pushed it open.

The room was incredibly dark. The drapes surrounding Harry’s bed were drawn tightly, as were all the curtains in the room. Lighting her wand, Hermione stepped inside and made her way to the bed, carefully pulling back a side of the drapes and peering in.

Harry was deeply asleep, face buried into his pillow and duvet to his chin. Hermione lowered her wand, casting the light over the brunet to see if anything was out of the ordinary. Other than seeming a little pale, there were no signs of any marks of any kind on his skin which relieved Hermione to no end.

“How is he?” Ron murmured. “Does he have boils?”

“No,” Hermione whispered in reply, turning to Ron. “But he doesn’t look very well either.”

“Should we wake him?” Ron suggested, moving closer. “Take him to Pomfrey maybe?”

“I don’t know.” Hermione bit her lip. “I think we better though, just in case.” The brunette turned back around, reaching out a careful hand to shake her friend awake. “Harry?”

Dazed and dark green eyes flickered open heavy lidded, confusion settling in their depths.

“Harry, its Mione, are you okay?” she asked gently.

“Headache...” Harry croaked in reply, closing his eyes again. “Feel sick.”

“Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey?” she said. “She can help.”

Harry shook his head minutely. “Too sore, don’t want to move.”

Hermione looked over at Ron, unsure on what to do.

“Do you reckon Pomfrey would come up here and see him?” Ron said. “She’ll probably be able to see if he needs to be moved or not.”

“That might be best,” Hermione replied. “One of us should stay with Harry though.”

“I’ll go get Pomfrey,” Ron offered. “I’m sure Harry would appreciate a woman’s touch rather than mine,” he grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes but returned his smile. “Alright hurry up then.”

Dropping his bag to the floor, Ron left the two in the dark room and rushed down the stairs. Hermione closed the door behind him and made her way back to Harry’s bedside. She placed her wand aside, still lit, and sat on the bed, laying a comforting hand on Harry’s hair.

“Did you get the headache yesterday?” she asked gently.

“Yes,” Harry whispered in reply, swallowing convulsively. “I thought sleeping would help.” His body trembled as he fought the growing nausea, hands gripping the duvet tightly. “J-Just got worse.”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Hermione murmured, stroking her fingers through his hair. “Ron’s gone to find Madam Pomfrey. I’m sure she’ll help you.”

“Will you stay?” Harry whimpered.

“Of course I will,” Hermione replied.

“I don’t want to be sick.”

“You’ll be fine,” Hermione reassured. “Do you want some water? It might help.”

“Please.”

Hermione summoned the bottle of water she kept in her bag and transfigured a pencil Harry had on his desk into a straw. Helping the tired brunet to sit up, Hermione handed him the bottle and watched over carefully as he drank.

“How do you feel?” she asked. “Still nauseous?”

“A little better,” Harry replied with a croak. “Thanks, Mione.” He offered a small smile, handing her back the bottle. Still a little concerned with the dark circles beneath his eyes, Hermione placed the water aside and told him to lie back down.

“If Madam Pomfrey decides to move you to the Hospital Wing, Harry, I really think you should go,” Hermione said as she rearranged his duvet.

“But I hate it in there,” Harry moped, hugging his pillow.

“I know you do but it’ll be easier for Madam Pomfrey to look after you,” Hermione replied patiently. “Ron and I will stay with you as much as we can.”

“You love class too much,” Harry retorted, cringing when his head thumped. “ _Ugh_ , _I hate my head..._ ”

The brunette’s lips quirked into a smile but she swallowed the laugh she felt. Instead she smoothed back his hair and stroked his flushed cheek. Lost in the soothing sensations, Harry allowed his guard to fall and accepted the sleep that crept up over him. He was eternally thankful for Hermione right at that moment, being here to comfort him even though he most likely looked like hell. Finding her hand in a sleepy daze, he squeezed it tightly and smiled.

“Thank you, Mione,” he whispered, “for being here with me.”

Hermione squeezed his hand in return. “Always,” she murmured gently.

 

* * *

 

Harry could hear voices when he woke next. He shifted slightly, noticing the fresh smell of the Hospital Wing and the rasp of the typically rough sheets against his skin. Despite waking in the one place he despised, Harry was happy. The headache that had tormented him mercilessly was completely gone and he cheered silently, wondering what it was that Madam Pomfrey had done.

The voices grew clearer and he was able to distinguish them as Hermione and Ron’s. Blinking sleepily, Harry lifted a hand to rub at his eyes, smiling when he heard Hermione’s relieved greeting.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” she gushed. “We got worried when you slept the entire way down here without waking.”

His vision clearing, Harry gazed up at Hermione’s smiling face, surprised at how clear she appeared. The female frowned as she watched Harry’s eyes widen in alarm.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“What—what did Pomfrey do?” he gasped in reply. “I can see!”

“What do you mean?” Hermione suddenly gasped. “Your vision? You can see perfectly? _Without_ your glasses?”

Harry nodded vigorously, sweeping his gaze around the room. “Holy hell this is eerie.” He looked down at his hands, wiggling his fingers in front of his face. “It feels so surreal not to be wearing any glasses.” He studied his fingers intently, amazed at the detail he could clearly see without the unnatural magnification of his lenses.

“I don’t know how this is possible,” Hermione said with a curious frown. “Madam Pomfrey hasn’t _done_ anything yet.”

“What?”

“She was going to wait until you woke up,” Hermione explained. “She wanted to ask you a few questions before she gave you anything.” She looked over his face, noticing how fresh and healthy he appeared. “Is your headache gone?”

“Yes.” The brunet nodded. “As soon as I woke up.”

“Interesting...” Hermione murmured.

“This is great, mate!” Ron said excitedly. “You’ll never need glasses again!”

“Be quiet, Ron,” Hermione said. “We don’t know for sure yet. This might be temporary.”

Harry’s face fell. “I’m sort of hoping it’s not,” he pouted.

“I’m going to fetch Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione declared. “Don’t move!” She rushed towards Pomfrey’s office, leaving Harry to continue waving his fingers in front of his eyes.

“How many fingers?” Ron asked, holding up three.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I could tell you that when I _needed_ glasses you idiot,” he chuckled. “How great is this? Malfoy tries to be an arse but instead fixes my eyesight! He’s going to hate himself forever.”

Ron grinned evilly. “I can’t wait to wave this in his face.”

“Me too,” Harry sniggered. “So do I look better without glasses? Tell me honestly.”

“Yeah, mate, you do.” Ron smiled. “You’ll have the entire female population after you now.”

Harry grinned awkwardly. “Stop exaggerating.”

“I’m not!” the red head chuckled. “Malfoy is going to be so _pissed_.”

 _It would be better if he was happy for me..._ Harry thought sadly. _Nothing will ever impress him..._

At that moment Hermione arrived by his bedside with Madam Pomfrey in tow. The ever-alert Healer had her wand out instantly and her hand on Harry’s chin to hold his head steady as she scanned his eyes. She murmured gently to herself but Harry was unable to make out what she was saying.

_His eyesight wasn’t going to revert back was it?_

“This is incredible,” Madam Pomfrey breathed in amazement. “You’re eye tissue has completely healed itself.” She scanned his eyes one last time. “There doesn’t seem to be any lingering side effects; it might be possible to declare this as a permanent fix.” She pierced him with a glare. “You are _extremely_ lucky, Mr Potter,” she sniffed. “Next time you come _straight to me!_ ”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry sulked as Hermione offered a smug grin.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” the bushy brunette smiled. “And relieved that the potion didn’t do any serious damage.”

“Damage? It’s the best goddamn healing potion in the world!” Ron exclaimed. “What a shame it was Malfoy’s fault.”

“Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?” Madam Pomfrey inquired.

“Yes,” Harry replied. “Malfoy added something to my cauldron and it exploded.”

“What potion were you attempting?” the Healer asked.

“An alternative Pepper-up draught for the flu,” Hermione interjected. “With winter approaching, Professor Snape figured it would be best to teach us something worth knowing so he wouldn’t have to make it himself.”

“Do you know what it was Mr Malfoy put in your cauldron, Mr Potter?” Pomfrey asked.

Harry shook his head. “I wasn’t looking when he did it.”

“Hmm…” Madam Pomfrey tapped a finger against her lips. “And what did Professor Snape have to say?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t think he knows what happened,” the brunet muttered. “He’s become obsessed with his laptop. Didn’t look up once.”

“Blasted irresponsible man.” Pomfrey huffed and folded her arms with a frown. “You could have been blinded!” Lowering her voice, Madam Pomfrey turned her sharp gaze to Harry. “I want to keep you here until at least dinner, Mr Potter, for observation of course.”

Harry scowled. “Do I have too?”

“Yes,” Madam Pomfrey replied sternly. “No ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’ about it.” She turned to the other Gryffindors. “You may stay for five minutes and then it’s off to class.” She turned on her heel and stalked back to her office, closing the door with a soft _snap_.

“Great, alone in the Hospital Wing with _nothing_ to do,” Harry pouted.

Hermione grinned slyly. “I wouldn’t say _nothing_ …” She held up Harry’s laptop bag, pleased when her best friend’s face lit up with a smile.

“Mione, you’re amazing!” he said excitedly.

“I know,” she replied, laying the bag across his lap. “I’ll grab you some clothes to change into during dinner, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry said happily, switching his laptop on. “Thanks you guys.”

“See you later, bud,” Ron smiled.

 _Hermione is definitely a god-send_... Harry thought with a grin as he watched his friends leave. _She’s always there when I need her..._

 

* * *

 

“Draco, you’re staring again.”

“... No I’m not.”

“Then it must be a coincidence that Potter just happens to be sitting where you’re looking?” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Draco replied absentmindedly.

Pansy glared at her friend, intent on gaining his attention. “I heard the other day that Blaise and Weasley made out,” she said, examining her nails.

“That’s nice.”

Pansy’s lip curled.

“And that Potter has the hots for you.”

“What?” Draco blinked, cheeks going red at Pansy’s smirk. He looked away in annoyance. “Shut up,” he moped.

“When are you going to give up this denial?” Pansy asked with a sigh. “It’s becoming rather tiresome.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Draco replied, picking up a toasted croissant. Instead of eating it however, he began to pull it apart as his gaze wandered back to where Potter was sitting. It had been a shock to see the dark haired Gryffindor enter the Great Hall that morning without his glasses; Draco wondered why it was that Potter had suddenly decided not to wear them.

_Did he get his eyes corrected? Maybe he’s wearing those weird things muggles call contact lenses?_

It had been even more of a shock to Draco’s system to realise that without his glasses, Potter was exceptionally good looking. Previously, Draco had been able to brush away potential feelings by focusing on how ridiculous the brunet’s glasses were and how owlish they made him appear. Little had Draco known that they had been masking those green eyes, hiding their full vibrancy from the world. It actually scared him to realise just how powerful Potter’s gaze was.

His breath caught as Potter suddenly looked up and caught his eye. Instead of the scowl that Draco was accustomed of seeing, Potter _grinned_ at him, eyes brightening immensely. Draco paled.

“Oh god,” Draco fretted, looking anywhere but the Gryffindor table.

“What’s wrong?” Pansy asked worriedly.

“Potter,” the blond pouted and Pansy smiled knowingly.

“Yes,” she said, eyes alight. “Potter.”


	7. Chapter 7

The Gryffindor versus Slytherin quidditch match had been the best game Harry had ever played. With his glasses no longer an issue, Harry had been free to pull as many risky turns and dives as he desired without the fear of losing them. Another matter that pleased Harry to no end was how distracted Malfoy had been during the entirety of the match. The blond had seemed no more interested in catching the snitch than he was during History of Magic. Harry was curious as to what it was that had been on Malfoy’s mind. It had almost seemed as if the Slytherin just wasn’t interested anymore.

 _I wonder if Malfoy even likes playing quidditch?_ Harry thought. _He hasn’t been much of a challenge during any of our games..._

“Or maybe I’m just too good.” Harry grinned at his reflection, ruffling his damp hair. Gryffindor had won three hundred and fifty points to eighty so Harry was in an ecstatic mood as he got dressed. Ron was humming happily beside him, blue eyes alight with happiness.

“You rocked today, Harry,” he smiled, swinging his broom onto his shoulder. “We kicked Slytherin’s butt.”

“Wasn’t much of a challenge,” the brunet smirked in reply, following his best friend from the locker room. “Didn’t seem like Malfoy had his head in the game.”

“It’s probably too far up his a—”

“Ronald!” Hermione scolded from beside them. “That’s disgusting.”

“It’s the truth,” Ron huffed.

“Irrelevant,” Hermione continued with a flourish of her hand. “Be the mature one, Ron, alright?”

“Are you _defending_ him, Mione?” Harry asked, eyes wide.

“I just don’t think silly name calling or the use of ridiculous sayings is needed,” Hermione stated with a nod. “Surprisingly, Malfoy has been quite civil with me ever since McGonagall assigned us as study partners.”

“I still can’t believe she did that! Of _all_ people,” Ron griped.

“Because out of everyone in our grade, Malfoy is the only one who is intelligent enough?” Hermione replied smugly. “You should be lucky you weren’t assigned with Goyle or Crabbe.”

“I’m lucky I wasn’t assigned with a Slytherin,” Ron retorted.

“Hey, Parkinson isn’t that bad either,” Harry interjected. “She can be really funny at times.”

Ron’s eyes bugged. “You can’t be serious! The both of you falling for Slytherins!”

“We are not falling for Slytherins,” Hermione sighed impatiently.

“Oh I don’t know, Mione,” Harry winked. “Parkinson and I have already planned our wedding theme.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh my god, Ron, I’m joking.”

“Joking shouldn’t be allowed!” Ron exclaimed, calming his stampeding heart. He pointed an accusing finger in Hermione’s face. “I hope you aren’t planning on becoming friends with the Ferret.”

Hermione blinked innocently. “I don’t know what you mean, Ronald,” she replied. “Ooh, speaking of which I need to get to the library.”

“Another study session? Didn’t you have one yesterday?” Ron whined.

“We prefer to study at least once a day,” Hermione shrugged. “When and where do you and Parkinson study, Harry?”

“Every other day,” Harry replied. “Usually wherever we feel like parking our butts.”

“Why don’t you join Malfoy and me today?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll miss.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Harry replied firmly. “Go enjoy your study session.”

“I always do,” Hermione smirked. “See you two at dinner.” Rushing ahead, she left the two males to make their way slowly back to the castle. Harry couldn’t actually remember when Hermione had been that excited to study. Maybe Malfoy was the challenge she’d been after all these years.

Harry frowned slightly as he realised he wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of Hermione hanging around Malfoy so much.

_It’s because he’s an arse... yeah... why else would I be protective?_

“You don’t think Hermione’s falling for Malfoy do you, mate?” Ron asked sadly as they entered the Entrance Hall.

“Uh—no I don’t think so,” Harry replied. “The slimy git _is_ pretty smart; it sort of makes sense that they should be study partners and all.”

“Yeah but... we don’t like Malfoy,” Ron sulked. “Why does Mione suddenly seem as if she likes him?”

“Maybe he can actually be nice,” Harry smiled in return. “We’ve seen the way he is with his friends, he’s not a total arse to them.”

“And Parkinson? You don’t like her or anything do you?” Ron asked sceptically.

Harry laughed. “I think I’m beginning to like her as a friend, mate, but nothing more I assure you.”

“Positive?”

“Absolutely.”

Ron sighed aloud, a grin brightening his face. “I can still remember the look on both of your faces when McGonagall called out your names.”

“Not as bad as yours when she called out Malfoy and Hermione,” Harry teased.

Ron’s eyes darkened. “I’m not going to be responsible for my actions if he hurts her in any way.”

“Don’t worry,” Harry said gently, “Mione can handle herself.” He eyed the red-head curiously. “Why haven’t you told Mione yet?”

“Told her what?”

“That you like her.”

A red blush stained Ron’s cheeks. “Because she’ll probably laugh.”

Harry snorted. “You won’t know until you tell her.”

“I don’t want to make things awkward.”

 _God this match-making crap is harder than I thought..._ “Look, Ron...” Harry ran a hand through his head, wondering if he should tell his best mate. “I may have told Mione that you like her...”

Ron’s face paled. “...and?” he asked meekly.

Harry smiled reassuringly. “And she didn’t laugh,” he grinned. “She doesn’t believe me though; she doesn’t think you’d ever like her.”

“But I do!”

“Then tell her that,” Harry replied. “Mione likes you as well, Ron, but she’s worried you don’t see her for anything other than a friend.”

“Okay um, how should I do it?”

“There’s a Hogsmead trip coming up,” Harry shrugged. “Ask her out for the day and take her somewhere nice.”

“Three Broomsticks?”

Harry shrugged again. “It’s up to you, mate.”

Ron bit his lip, focusing on his footing as they climbed some stairs. “I don’t want to take her on a cliché date.”

“Then take her on a picnic or something,” Harry suggested.

Ron’s grin told Harry how well his idea sat with the red-head. “A picnic! That’s a great idea!”

“I’m full of them,” the brunet sniggered.

“No really, a picnic will definitely show Mione I like her,” Ron beamed. “She loves it when you go out of your way to do things.”

“Do you know her favourite foods?” Harry asked.

“Some of them... could you help me?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, mate, really,” Ron said excitedly. “I hope this date works.”

Harry giggled. “It’s not the date that will woo her, Ron, it’ll be _you_.”

“Let’s hope so,” Ron smirked. “Now we just need to find a girl for you and we’ll be set!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Make it a man and you’re on,” he replied automatically.

Ron paused in the hallway, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Harry kept his face resolute, ignoring the way his heart seemed to be in his throat.

“You did just say man, right?” Ron asked after a moment.

“Er… yes?” Harry replied.

Ron bit his lip. “So... you don’t like girls then?”

Harry observed the red-head carefully. “Does that bother you?”

Ron shook his head. “No... no it’s just—” His face fell. “Now we can’t go out and pick up random girls together.”

Harry snorted with laughter, clutching his side as his fear drained away into humour. “Ron, you are fantastic,” he giggled.

A small smile tugged at Ron’s lips. “So are you going to date Neville then?”

“Nah he’s not my type,” Harry replied. “I love Neville as a friend but I prefer blonds.”

Ron glanced at his best friend. “Like... Malfoy blond?”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “Pfft... no,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“You do!” Ron gasped.

“I do not!”

“You do so!”

Harry folded his arms and looked away with a pout.

“Harry, mate... _Malfoy_?”

“He’s attractive,” Harry replied. “I can appreciate that can’t I? It’s not like we’d ever date or anything—he’s too much of a prick.”

Relief settled across Ron’s face. “That makes sense,” he grinned. “Don’t worry we’ll find you a good looking blond who’s really nice as well.”

Harry smiled. “I look forward to it.”

“So Neville really is out of the question?”

“Why Neville?”

Ron scratched his head awkwardly. “He might have told me he likes you...”

“But you didn’t even know I liked males,” Harry frowned.

“Yeah I know and I told him that. I um, may or may not have had a suspicion about you anyway...” Ron glanced slyly at his best friend. “So how long have you liked guys?”

“Since summer-ish,” Harry replied. “I wasn’t sure at first but I am quite positive now.”

“Does Mione know?”

“Yeah I told her a little while ago.”

“Before _me_? Your awesome best friend?!”

“It was inevitable!” Harry persisted. “She found something of mine and I sort of had to tell her.”

“Don’t tell me it was porn.”

“Ugh no!” Harry shivered. “God I think I’d die of embarrassment if Mione found something like that.”

“So? What was it then?” Ron asked.

“Just something on the internet,” Harry replied vaguely.

“Aw come on, I want to know! Please, please, _please_?”

“I have a blog,” Harry sighed. “She found it.”

“What’s a blog?”

“Something that allows you to post whatever you want,” Harry replied. “Things that reflect you and your personality.”

“And she found yours,” Ron stated. “Did it have a lot of naked men on it?”

“Somewhat,” Harry replied awkwardly. “It would have been obvious if she looked through my blog so I basically came out and told her.”

“How’d she react?” Ron snickered.

“She yelled at me for not telling her sooner.” Harry smiled. “But I wasn’t even sure myself and I didn’t know how she would take the news... either of you for that matter.”

“It can be a scary time,” Ron nodded his understanding. “Lucky for you though it’s widely accepted in the Wizarding community.”

“Really?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Yeah of course.” Ron frowned at the brunet. “Isn’t it accepted in the muggle world?”

Harry shook his head. “No not really; my relatives hate the idea.”

“Their opinions don’t matter,” Ron sniffed.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry smiled. “You and Mione are the best things ever to happen to me.”

“And don’t we know it,” Ron leered.

 

* * *

  

“What has you so preoccupied that you didn’t even realise I had sat down?”

Draco’s gaze flickered over to the expectant Gryffindor who sat opposite him. He casually lowered the lid of his laptop and sat up straighter in his chair.

“Nothing a Gryffindor would understand I’m sure,” he replied in amusement.

“Try me,” Hermione challenged as she organised her textbooks.

“I’d rather not.”

Hermione’s eyes glittered and Draco immediately rolled his eyes.

“Don’t even go there Granger, that’s disgusting,” he stated tonelessly. “How very dare you think I would stoop so low.”

“You’re a male,” she smirked in reply. “It’s only natural.”

“I’m sure,” the blond muttered in reply. “Alright let’s get this over and done with.”

“Have somewhere to be?” Hermione inquired innocently.

“Yes, anywhere but here,” Draco said. “Shall we?”

“Would you mind if Harry and Parkinson were to join us sometimes?” Hermione asked instead.

Words failed Draco for a moment and he shrugged casually, keeping his gaze off the female in front of him. “I could care less.”

“Would you try to kill him?”

“Granger, can we just study already? I’m not in the mood for twenty questions,” Draco snapped impatiently.

“Alright calm down,” Hermione sniffed. “I thought it might be nice to study in a group.”

“Granger, you’re lucky I tolerate you,” Draco replied. “Why on earth would I want to befriend Potter?”

 _Because I know you can be really charming when you want to be..._ Hermione thought. _And Harry deserves someone as strong and attractive as you..._

Hermione shrugged. “Thought it would have been nice to move beyond this pointless hatred for one another.”

Draco cringed inwardly, fingers fiddling with his quill. “I don’t... hate him.”

“Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you properly,” Hermione said. “You don’t hate Harry?”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like him,” Draco replied haughtily. “I’m beginning to realise that maybe he’s not such an arrogant idiot after all.”

“How noble of you,” Hermione said dryly.

“I thought so.” Draco smirked. “But don’t expect me to start being nice to him.”

“Well he’s not going to like you in return if you keep being an arse,” Hermione interjected.

“Who says I want him to like me?” Draco shot back in reply.

Hermione twirled a section of her hair around her finger as she eyed the blond in front of her. “I thought it would be fitting considering it was _you_ who fixed Harry’s eyesight.”

“...What?”

“Is the great Draco Malfoy speechless? Such a feat has never been accomplished!”

“Shut it, Granger,” Draco growled. “What do you mean, I fixed Potter’s eyesight?”

“Whatever you added to Harry’s cauldron the other week reacted with the ingredients and fixed Harry’s eyesight,” Hermione explained carefully. “If you hadn’t meddled with his potion, he’d still have glasses.”

Draco stared at the female in disbelief. “I don’t believe you.”

Hermione smiled slyly. “Face facts, Malfoy,” she grinned. “You’ve given Harry an amazing gift... and you didn’t even know it.”

“I swear the universe has it in for me,” Draco snarled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms tightly across his chest. “This is ridiculously unfair.”

“Oh yes, ridiculously so,” Hermione mocked. _Why can’t you just be happy for him...?_

Draco sighed wearily, rubbing his temples. “He knows it was me doesn’t he.”

“Yes,” Hermione replied. “And if you were to befriend him I’m positive he’d thank you for it... even if it was accidental—sort of.”

“I don’t need his thanks,” Draco sniped. “I wasn’t trying to help in the first place.” He glowered at the desk, keeping his arms folded. “Merlin if my father ever found out…” He huffed. “Never mind, are we studying or not?”

“Certainly,” Hermione said. “Where would you like to start?”

“I don’t care,” Draco moped. “Anywhere.” _I can’t believe I was the one to fix Potter’s eyesight… it’s a bloody joke…_

“Did you want to leave it for today?”

_Of all the things… of all the people…_

“Malfoy?”

“Hmm?” Draco blinked.

Hermione’s eyes were unnervingly kind as they gazed over him. “You seem rather distracted; why don’t we leave it for today?”

“Alright, fine.” Draco drummed his fingers on the table top, gaze falling to his laptop. “I have things to do anyway.”

“Same time tomorrow?”

Nodding silently, Draco waited for the bushy haired female to leave him be before lifting the lid of his computer and refreshing his Tumblr dashboard. Scrolling downwards through the posts calmed him only slightly as many had in fact been reblogged or added by Potter himself.

Draco found himself admiring a drawing the Golden Boy had drawn of Pansy, the caption below stating how demanding the sly Slytherin had been to have Potter draw her. Draco smiled.

_Pansy what are you up too, I wonder? Actually wanting Potter to draw you?_

“He captured my good side don’t you think?”

Draco jumped, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Pansy smirked as she slid in the seat opposite her friend, staring at him intently.

“Don’t _do_ that!” Draco glared.

“Appreciating Potter’s artwork hmm, Draco?”

“Why did you want Potter to draw you?” Draco replied instead.

Pansy shrugged elegantly. “I found him drawing before one of our study lessons and I asked him about it. He said he liked to draw people and I asked him if he would draw me. At first he seemed reluctant but I persevered.”

“So I see,” Draco said drily.

“I think it came out rather nicely,” Pansy continued, examining her nails intently. “You’re just jealous because he hasn’t drawn _you_ yet.”

Draco opened his mouth but closed it firmly. _She doesn’t need to know_ …

Pansy smiled. “Am I right?”

“I never said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” Pansy grinned. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Uh huh.”

“So, um… are you able to get that picture off the computer?” Pansy asked, biting her lip endearingly.

“Don’t tell me you actually want it,” Draco sneered, ignoring the small jibe he felt. He of course, had printed off the picture Potter had drawn of him and hidden it securely. Pansy didn’t need to know that.

“Please?”

Draco sighed. “ _Fine_ , although I can’t see why you didn’t asked Potter for his copy.”

“And remove my presence from his wondrous collection of artworks? You _must_ be joking.”

Draco laughed, feeling better than he had all afternoon. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Pansy.”

“You’d be as soft as a Hufflepuff.”

“Speak for yourself!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution: Following chapter contains sexual content.

“I would like to study outside today,” Pansy announced as she arrived by the desk.

Harry looked up in surprise. “Um, okay?”

“Well come on then,” she huffed. “We don’t have all day!”

“Don’t you think it’s a little cold to be sitting outside?” Harry replied with a faint frown.

“That’s what warming charms are for.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Obviously,” Harry moped, following the peculiar Slytherin out of the library. “So why the sudden urge to be outside?”

“Because I feel like it,” Pansy replied bluntly. “I’ll focus better if I’m happy.” Harry snorted a laugh, earning a dark look from the female. “Shush, Potter,” she sniffed. “You’re almost as bad as Draco.”

“Do we both not take you seriously?” Harry mused with a smile.

“Apparently,” Pansy pouted. “So cut it out!”

Harry kept quiet as they exited the castle. The sky above was crystal clear, the sun shining vibrantly. The wind, however, had a bitter chill on its edge and Harry wasted no time in casting a warming charm. Pansy followed suit as she crossed the grassy slope, sitting herself down on the edge of the hill which overlooked the lake. Harry lowered himself opposite her and started pulling out his books.

“Wait,” Pansy interrupted.

Frowning, Harry looked at the dark haired female curiously.

“I want to talk to you,” she continued, brushing a wayward lock of hair from her face.

“About?”

Pansy shrugged. “Anything.”

“Is this another moment where I shouldn’t take you seriously?” Harry asked.

Pansy huffed in annoyance. “ _No._ I thought it might be nice to get to know one another properly.”

“Don’t you hate me?”

“Not anymore.”

Harry grinned. “I don’t hate you either.”

“Good, great start,” Pansy sniffed. “Are you gay?”

Harry spluttered. “ _What?_ ”

“Oh please, Potter,” Pansy said disbelievingly. “Your interest in women doesn’t even exceed leering at them. My breasts are practically falling out of my shirt and you haven’t looked once.”

“What if I’m trying to be respectful?”

“Potter, don’t be daft. Even respectful males—so to speak—would be caught catching a look at least once. Besides, half of the female population are practically throwing themselves at you and yet I see no girlfriend. You never flirt, ogle, or get nervous around the female species as regular straight men would.” Pansy smirked at the bewildered Gryffindor. “But I might have also overheard Weasley informing Longbottom that although you do like men you weren’t interested in him.”

Harry glowered. “I’m going to kill Ron.”

Pansy smiled as she examined her nails. “And before you ask, no, I’m not gay—I am very much into men.”

“I’m not sure I’m in the mood to talk anymore,” Harry whined.

“Be a man, Potter, people are bound to find out.”

“Don’t you care?”

“Why would I?” Pansy frowned.

“No reason,” Harry said hurriedly. “Okay, um, this is going to be a… delicate question but just bear with me.”

Pansy quirked an eyebrow. “Ask the question, Potter.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Do you want to become a Death Eater?”

“No,” Pansy replied simply. “My father may not have brains nor a backbone but I certainly do.”

Harry grinned. “I like that.”

“Of course you do, I’m amazing,” Pansy said smugly.

“Uh huh…”

“Next question, do you like anyone?”

“Why is my love life suddenly so interesting?” Harry asked, casually bypassing the question.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Potter,” Pansy sighed. “Because I want to get to _know_ you.”

“Yeah but who I like and my sexual orientation don’t have to be the first things you know,” Harry replied with a raise of an eyebrow. “How about questions more like, ‘What do you want to do when you leave school?’”

“But that’s not interesting,” Pansy protested. “I don’t even care what I’m going to do after school.”

“Don’t care?”

“That’s right.”

“But why?”

Pansy shrugged. “It really depends where the Wizarding World is at that moment.”

Harry allowed the snide comment to pass, glancing away as he bit his bottom lip. “I think I’d like to be a Healer…” he offered.

“Really?” Pansy asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled gently. “Helping people would make me feel a lot better than hunting them.”

“Potter, you softy, are you sure you weren’t meant to be a Hufflepuff?” Pansy teased.

“Maybe, although at least I’ve found my calling,” Harry smirked.

“I would have never picked you as a Healer.” Pansy cocked her head. “But I can see it I guess.”

“Favourite colour?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Funnily enough it’s red,” Pansy replied in a nonchalant tone. “Yours?”

Harry grinned sheepishly. “Silver.”

Pansy tapped a finger against her lips. “I guess it’s redundant to ask what your favourite subject is.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s world known news.”

“Hmm…” Pansy pondered.

“What’s your favourite subject?” Harry asked instead.

“Not that I’d ever admit to it but I actually prefer Charms,” Pansy replied. “Potions really aren’t my strong point and if it wasn’t for Draco, I would have failed by now.”

“Don’t worry, everyone knows I suck at Potions as well,” Harry chuckled.

“Potter, you are a Gryffindor, it’s natural for you to suck at Potions.”

Harry pouted and folded his arms.

“You know you need an Exceeds Expectations in Potions to even _think_ about becoming a Healer, yes?” Pansy inquired.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “Becoming a Healer was just an idea… I’ll never have the grades to become one though.”

Pansy eyed him thoughtfully. “What if I were to get you a tutor?”

Harry glanced at her shrewdly. “Who?” His eyes widened at the sudden realisation. “Don’t even think about it!”

“Draco’s the only person capable to ignore your stubbornness and push your grades higher,” Pansy commented.

“Yeah by being a fuck-head,” Harry grumbled. “Seriously, Parkinson, Malfoy? We can’t stand being in the same _school_ as one another let alone have him tutor me.”

“What if he would?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if Draco agreed to tutor you? Would you do it?”

Harry pulled a face, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. “God I don’t know—it would never happen anyway so what does it matter? As if Malfoy would agree to _help_ me.”

Pansy eyed the Gryffindor curiously. The fact that he wasn’t interested in Longbottom hadn’t been the only thing she’d overheard Weasley mention the other day.

“Just thought it would have been nice,” Pansy said instead.

“I don’t understand why everyone is so intent on making Malfoy and me friends,” Harry grumbled. “If it was meant to be we would have become friends straight away but Malfoy was too stuck up for that to be possible.”

“Don’t worry about that, Draco always did have trouble accepting the fact that he didn’t always get what he wanted,” Pansy replied. “Do you realise how much that crushed, Draco? To have the Great Harry Potter cast him aside for a Weasley; he’s never gotten over it.”

“Woe is him then,” Harry grumbled.

“Just think about it, will you?” Pansy persisted. “Draco doesn’t hate you anymore and although his attitude is similar to yours I think it would be… beneficial to the both of you.”

“Until Malfoy can prove to me that he can actually care about another being I really have nothing to say to him,” Harry replied.

Pansy sighed internally but nodded. “Keep an open mind, its second nature for Draco to be defensive.”

“So I’ve seen,” Harry moped. “He gets along with you alright, he even _smiles_ at you.”

“Because I’ve known Draco since before Hogwarts,” Pansy replied patiently. “Give it some time.”

“More like an eternity,” Harry grumbled. “So are we going to study at all or did you drag me outside just so you could snoop?”

Pansy smirked. “A bit of both.”

“So do _you_ fancy anyone here?” Harry shot back, startling the Slytherin slightly.

“Not that I can recall,” she said, tilting her head to peer up at the sky. “Of course all of my plans were ruined when Draco figured out he was gay.”

“Do his parents know?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Pansy replied.

“… and they are alright with it?”

Pansy grinned. “The way I heard it, Lucius can’t exactly punish his son for something he himself is guilty of.”

“Oh god I don’t want to know,” Harry shuddered. “And his mum?”

“Loves Draco no matter how he lives his life.” Pansy smiled gently. “Do you really think Draco would let his parents get in the way of how he wants to live anyway?”

“No,” Harry said resentfully. “But then again, Malfoy always gets what he wants.”

“Except you.”

“Except—” Harry narrowed his eyes. “What are you playing at, Parkinson?”

“… Nothing,” Pansy smiled innocently. “Favourite animal?”

 

* * *

 

Harry’s mind was afloat as he tossed his towel over the side of his shower. His afternoon talk with Parkinson had certainly left him drained, with warped ideas and confusion a constant presence in head. He now knew when her birthday was and what she wanted, her ideas on marriage, favourite animal, how many children she wanted and their names, that she was no longer a virgin although after her experience she almost wished she was, what her hobbies included and many, many other facts that were beginning to burst.

The information had been shared though; Parkinson now knew as much about Harry as he did about her. He wasn’t sure whether he liked or even understood this new friendship with the Slytherin but until his mind settled he’d just have to accept it.

Turning on the water, Harry waited for it to warm before stepping under the cascade, rivulets coursing down his skin. Goosebumps rose as his body accepted the heat, indulging in the relief that seemed to settle over his shoulders. He ruffled up his hair, soaking it in the stream of water before reaching for his shampoo. The soothing scent relaxed him even further, the lather thick and suds following the rivulets down his body.

 _Showers are definitely a god send…_ Harry thought blissfully, enjoying the steady pounding of the spray against his back. He tilted his head to rinse the soap from his hair and scrubbed his hands over his face, keeping it trained on the warm stream as he hand groped for his soap. When his fingers closed over the slippery brick, Harry began to rub it over his skin, his other hand following behind as it scrubbed the soapy texture into thick foam. His hand brushed carelessly over his flaccid cock, the interest in fooling around seeming nowhere in sight. He finished soaping up, standing motionless as he watched the water wash the bubbles down the drain. His mind had calmed thankfully, allowing comments to float dazedly through his head about his conversation with Parkinson. There had been something strange with some of her answers but Harry tried not to overthink them—overthinking is what caused his confusion initially.

“ _Malfoy always gets what he wants._ ”

“ _Except you_.”

Harry’s eyes opened, gaze fixated on the tiles. There was something entirely wrong with that statement; why would Malfoy want him? Did he want his friendship or something more? _What the hell did Parkinson mean…?_

Harry sighed, wiping a hand over his face as he leant against the wall. He would have liked to believe that Malfoy desired him; someone as strong and attractive as the blond certainly excited him like nothing else. With intense silver eyes that seemed to change shades depending on Malfoy’s mood and a wicked sharp tongue; how Harry wished he wasn’t at the other end of the other boy’s insults.

Harry’s hand unconsciously drifted down his stomach and towards his cock which was beginning to show signs of interest, his fingers gently caressing along the length.

Malfoy’s smile was like nothing else, so carefree and natural when he wasn’t on guard with his emotions—Harry wondered what the blond would look like whilst being pleasured.

A small groan escaped passed Harry’s lips, his fingers curling around his hardening cock.

He imagined Malfoy on his knees before him, eyes like molten silver as they peered up at Harry. His body lean but beautifully shaped with muscle, fingers long and gentle as they would curl around his hard length. His skin wouldn’t be as rough as Harry’s but soft. His fingers would brush teasingly and Harry would plead for more, begging Malfoy to make him come.

Harry’s hand began to stroke faster as his imagination began to take over. He pictured Malfoy leaning closer, mouth parted slightly and his hot breath ghosting over the head of Harry’s cock. Harry whimpered softly, watching in his mind’s eye as Malfoy’s tongue flicked out, tasting the leaking pre-come that glistened on Harry’s head. Soft supple lips enclosed over the swollen end, a teasing tongue swirling deliciously over Harry’s sensitive skin.

“ _Yessss_ ,” Harry hissed, eyes screwed tightly and hand moving ferociously fast.

Malfoy’s mouth inched further down Harry’s cock, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. The brunet imagined Malfoy groaning deeply in his throat and Harry wished he could reach down to entangle his fingers in, what he imagined, Malfoy’s silky hair.

The familiar pool of arousal was almost at breaking point and Harry strained to reach it, imagining as he pushed himself further into Malfoy’s sinful mouth. Nimble fingers would massage Harry’s thighs as he urged Malfoy to slide up and down his shaft, faster and faster and faster…

Harry’s back suddenly arched as he hit his climax, waves of intense pleasure rolling over him as he pictured Malfoy swallowing everything he had to give. With a final imagined smile, Harry pushed Malfoy’s image out of his head and slumped back against the wall, chest heaving with rough breaths.

 _So much for ignoring my attraction to the bastard…_ Harry thought snidely. _How am I meant to pretend he doesn’t exist when I imagine him giving me amazing blowjobs?_

Stepping back under the spray, Harry washed himself clean once more, feeling a little more than repulsed with himself for being so crude.

_Fucking Malfoy…_

 

* * *

 

“I think Potter likes you.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!”

“Did he tell you this?”

“No… but I _did_ overhear Weasley yesterday.”

“And?”

“And it seemed pretty obvious it was you he was talking about.” Pansy sniggered, remembering the conversation. “Longbottom has a crush on the Boy Who Lived but apparently Potter is only interested in blonds… _snarky_ blonds.”

“So? That could be anyone,” Draco denied, fingers gliding over the keys as he typed.

“Really, Draco? Are you _that_ in denial?”

“He didn’t tell you, therefore I refuse to acknowledge it,” Draco said stubbornly. “I’m not going to allow myself to fall for a ploy—I will _not_ be humiliated.”

“You think liking Potter is humiliating?” Pansy asked with a frown.

“No, I think the idea of Potter discovering I have potential feelings for him and announcing it to the school just to hurt me is humiliating,” Draco replied. “Why risk anyone getting close enough to know? It’s better to leave this entire mess alone.”

Pansy sighed audibly, sinking back into the pillows on Draco’s bed. The blond decided to ignore her for now, focusing instead on the essay McGonagall has assigned them the other day. Seriously, all this talk about Potter and feelings was extremely distracting, why on earth did Pansy think he’d want to know?

“Oh… I might have also told Potter I’d ask you if you’d tutor him in Potions.”

Draco’s fingers froze, eyes sharpening. “Excuse me?”

“Would you tutor Potter? It’d give you the chance to see if you’re compatible.”

“Never,” Draco said through gritted teeth. “Are you _mad_? This is exactly what I’m trying to avoid!”

“Whatever, when you stop being such a prima donna then we’ll talk,” Pansy sniffed, getting off the bed. “Seriously, Draco, you either stop moping to me about your fucked-up love life or you actually do something about it.”

“Fuck off, Pansy,” Draco replied.

With a roll of her eyes Pansy removed herself from the room, leaving Draco in silence. He glared angrily at his screen, profanities of a vile nature running circles in his head.

_Fucking Pansy, fucking Potter, fucking—argh FUCK!_

Draco closed his laptop with a snarl. _Tutor Potter? She must be raving mad!_

 _You’re just frightened that being in such close proximity with Potter he’ll discover certain things about you…_ his inner voice chimed in happily.

“Which is never going to happen,” Draco said forcefully. “ _Never_.”

_Whatever you say, sweetheart._

While Draco wondered why the hell his inner voice sounded a lot like Pansy, the blond had gotten himself up off his bed and over to his wardrobe.

_I need to get out of here…_

He changed into his quidditch gear, grabbed his broom and made his way from his room and down the stairs. He ignored all voices that called out to him as he left the Slytherin common room and marched his way through the castle. Only when he was outside did he allow his pace to slow, his broom leaning comfortably against his shoulder. The walk to the quidditch pitch was a soothing one wherein Draco was able to calm the annoying inner voice that had decided to take up residence during his denial stage.

“Regardless if Potter likes me or not,” Draco said to himself. “Nothing good is bound to happen if we act upon our hormones.” He sighed softly. _Nothing indeed…_

Once on the pitch, Draco wasted no time in swinging his leg over his broom and kicking off from the ground. Although his interest in quidditch had diminished, flying at a leisurely pace was something the blond had always enjoyed; especially when stressed. Flying in lazy circles, dips, dives and loop de loops, Draco relished in the lack of the annoying inner voice; flying higher and higher and faster and faster until his heart was beating wildly from excitement. He loved moments like these, where no one, not even Pansy, could see him so carefree and happy.

Little did Draco know, however, that he was not alone as he flew rampantly throughout the stands.

Harry sat beneath a large tree, eyes trained on the blond’s defined broomstick stance. In his lap was his art book, drawings of different variations of Draco scattered over the page. Watching the blond fly was slightly breathtaking but capturing his natural essence was even more so. Although Harry would not be able to put these up on Tumblr, having them in his art book for his eyes only sent a thrill down his spine. This was a side of Malfoy that Harry was positive no one knew.

No one but him.


	9. Chapter 9

The shadow that passed over Hermione caught her eye and she frowned faintly, turning to see whoever it was that was trying to sneak out.

“Harry? What on earth are you doing?”

Harry froze in mid step, huffing aloud as he faced the bushy haired female. “… I’m… going for a walk,” he replied.

“Now?” Hermione asked incredulously, glancing at her watch. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I can’t sleep,” Harry pouted. “Walking helps.”

Hermione eyed her best friend suspiciously. He offered a small smile in return.

“Just… don’t be too late,” Hermione said finally. “And don’t get caught! You’re the Head Boy, Harry, you’re meant to be setting an example.”

“Uh huh, yeah,” Harry replied absentmindedly, clutching his invisibility cloak. “See you.”

Hermione’s frown became more pronounced but she allowed him to leave. Whatever was on the brunet’s mind was obviously bothering him and it was true that Harry preferred to walk it off. There was, however, something different with Harry’s body language that seemed strange to her; not to mention the fact that Harry was a dreadful liar in which Hermione could see through him easily.

 _That’s what you get when you wear your heart on your sleeve…_ She thought wryly, returning to her homework.

 

* * *

 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he left the common room. He knew Hermione wouldn’t have been a major hurdle to pass but she could be awfully determined to reveal the truth at times and the real reason for him sneaking out was something he wanted hidden just at the moment.

Yes he could have tried to sneak passed with his invisibility cloak but Hermione also knew that he had one and would have heard the portrait door open and close. If he had been cloaked she would have asked more questions—it was better to allow her to see him, at least then she wouldn’t think he was purposely avoiding her.

A blush stained Harry’s cheeks at the reason to why he was sneaking out. He had been in bed looking over his map when he’d noticed a particular Slytherin leaving their common room. He had followed the path Malfoy was taking and when it became obvious that he was heading towards the Quidditch pitch Harry had gotten out of bed to change, intent on watching Malfoy fly.

What Hermione hadn’t seen though, was his art book. That had been hidden discreetly in his invisibility cloak along with a pencil. It had become a strange hobby for Harry, drawing Draco Malfoy of all people as he flew. It was something though, that intrigued Harry to no end. He’d found himself desiring the carefree and relaxed Malfoy lately, drawing him the way Harry imagined he’d be if he was kinder and much more approachable.

Stepping out into the cold, Harry cast numerous warming charms and wrapped his cloak around him tightly. He followed the footsteps that Malfoy had left in the snow, vanishing his own every few feet.

_God, what would Malfoy think if he knew someone had followed him out here?_

A flurry of embarrassed butterflies swirled in Harry’s stomach and he pushed the thought away. _Malfoy can never find out…_

“Never,” Harry swore, his breath coming out in an explosion of mist.

Up ahead, Harry could see a figure with shining blond hair flying elegantly over the pitch. The full moon provided enough light for Harry to see Malfoy clearly and as he neared, he was exceedingly careful as he vanished his footsteps so the blond would not notice the sudden disappearance.

Once seated in the stands, Harry cast many more warming charms before opening his art book to his latest, but unfinished, drawing of the blond. It was Harry’s favourite so far and he took extra care as he continued. Malfoy’s eyes, for one, had to be absolutely perfect. They were Harry’s favourite quality, with the rare, brilliant smile the blond would flash to his closest friends close behind.

 _Once, just_ once _I wish Malfoy would smile at me like that_ … Harry thought, carefully defining the blond’s light eyelashes.

When Harry next looked up, he was surprised to see Malfoy landing. The blond stepped down onto the stands, quite close to where Harry was sitting. Keeping as silent as he could, Harry watched as Malfoy slumped back against the wood, eyes closed and face tilted up. The moonshine washed over his skin, making it seem like the smoothest of porcelain.

 _Stay like that, please stay like that_ … Harry thought desperately as he silently turned to a fresh page. _God he looks gorgeous…_

 With hair slightly ruffled from the wind, cheeks faintly tinted with pink, and small, _very_ small smile tugging at his lips, Malfoy looked completely perfect. His chest rose and fell with each calming breath and Harry watched intently, following the defined shapes of Malfoy’s torso through the material of his quidditch gear.

Was Harry drooling? No of course not. Over Malfoy? Pfft, no, not at all…

Harry blinked and glanced down at his drawing. His hand had stopped, pencil limp in his hand as he realised he’d been staring at the Slytherin. He allowed himself a shy smile before continuing, hoping to get down the basic shape of Malfoy’s body before he moved.

 

* * *

 

The small breeze was brisk on Draco’s cheeks.

With his eyes closed and head tilted back he worried not that he was in the middle of the pitch where anyone could be watching, instead his mind began to drift peacefully as he listened to the nightlife, focusing on the variation of sounds.

There was something that seemed different however. On the edge of the usual hoots of owls and distant growls from the forest was a gentle scratching noise Draco had never heard before. It almost sounded like a quill but… smoother?

A faint frown worried his brow and he lifted his head slightly as he focused on the intruding scraping sound. He noticed as it paused, the sound disappearing.

 _Odd… but probably nothing life threatening…_ Draco reassured himself as he mentally shrugged it off. He relaxed the small frown and settled back, not bothering to worry as the scraping sound began again soon after.

 

* * *

 

Harry released the breath he was holding silently. The sudden change in Malfoy’s posture had been startling and he knew that it must have been the noise of his pencil that had caught the blond’s attention.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid…_ Harry cursed silently. The fact that Malfoy hadn’t seemed too worried about it was relieving to say the least; Harry’s secret remained unknown.

Keeping the strokes of his pencil light, Harry continued his drawing carefully, not wanting to give up the chance of having Malfoy to himself like this. The differences in Malfoy’s personality still astounded Harry; it was like having two completely different people in the same body. It was probably why Harry found it so easy to forget the annoying, rude, obnoxious Malfoy side, and enjoy the smooth, calm and laidback Draco side.

_Perhaps I should accept Parkinson’s offer for Malfoy to tutor me… maybe it’s the best way to see if we can be friends…?_

Harry sighed sadly, hand coming to a stop on a flick of Malfoy’s hair. _Malfoy would never agree no matter how many times Parkinson tells me he doesn’t hate me… how can I believe it to be true when he never looks at me with something else besides hatred and loathing?_

_Maybe because it’s all that he sees from you as well…_

Harry blinked.

It was true that it was second nature to glare at the blond; when had Harry ever turned a smile in Malfoy’s direction? Well, excluding the day after Harry’s vision was corrected— _I’m pretty sure I frightened the hell out of the Slytherin when I grinned at him…_

Harry smiled gently, glancing over at the blond.

_Maybe it’s time for a change…_

 

* * *

 

_Messages (1)_

 

“ _Do you mind if I ask you for some advice? There’s a guy in my school who I’m pretty sure hates me like nothing else. The feeling is rather mutual. I’ve noticed though some… characteristics this guy has that I sort of like and I wonder if you think it’s worth trying to be friends?_ ”

 

Draco stared at the question he’d received from _Lightning-Shaped-Scars_ and wondered if it was _he_ , Potter was talking about.

 _It couldn’t be me…_ Draco thought with a frown. _Potter wouldn’t want to be friends… he can’t stand my presence_ …

That was why Draco felt that befriending Potter would be a waste of time. The other male obviously disliked him intently, there was no point in trying, right?

So who was this mystery male that Potter was so intrigued by? A list of names began to run themselves through Draco’s mind, each one more disgusting than the other.

 _Finnigan… Thomas… Macmillan… Finch-Fletchley… Goldstein… hmm, it could be Theo… or I wonder if it’s Blaise?_ Draco snorted and shook his head.

“He’d rather date a Hufflepuff,” Draco said to himself. He pushed aside the reassurance he felt and continued through his list, intent in figuring out who it was.

 _Why do you need to know…?_ his subconscious interrupted rudely.

“Because,” Draco retorted, thinking up a reply to Potter’s question as he opened the other male’s Ask Box.

 

“ _I guess it really depends on how much you guys seem to hate each other and if he’s really worth the hassle—there’s no point trying to get through a brick wall. How long has this ‘hate’ been going on? Does this guy have good reason to hate you and vice versa? And just give it time, if you guys are meant to be friends then it’ll happen._ ”

 

“There, that doesn’t sound too bad does it?” Draco commented. “I wonder if I’d be able to get Potter to tell me the mystery man’s name.”

He sent his reply on its way and told his mind to shut up as it ranted happily about Draco’s obsession.

“Good lord, I get enough from Pansy let alone my own goddamn mind,” he growled, scrolling down his dashboard. As his eyes scanned over delicious pictures of different men, Draco began to wonder if Potter had uploaded any more drawings he’d done.

 _Sign one of infatuation… craving a particular aspect of theirs…_ his subconscious suddenly declared.

“Shut up.”

_Sign two… serious denial…_

“I am _not_ in denial!”

_Sign three… finding yourself preferring brunets above anyone else…_

“They’re just more attractive—that’s _all_.”

 _Sign four… feeling insecure that it isn’t_ you _Potter is after…_

“I’m too good for him anyway,” Draco sniffed. “He’s better off with someone like Longbottom.”

_And what if Potter does fall for Longbottom…?_

Draco’s heart thumped painfully. “Good, I hope he does.”

The door to his room suddenly flew open and Pansy marched confidently inside.

“God can’t I get _two_ seconds of peace?” Draco exclaimed.

Pansy paused, raising an eyebrow at the blond. “You’ve been in here alone for ages.”

“I wish,” Draco muttered. “What do you want, Pansy?”

“I’m going to go study with Potter and Granger, do you want to join us?”

Draco rubbed his temples. “Do I _look_ like I want to come?”

“Well no but I didn’t ask you if you wanted a release,” Pansy smirked. “I’m sure Potter would love to help you with that.”

“Pansy, your mind is filthy.”

“And you love it,” Pansy grinned, sitting herself down on the edge of Draco’s bed. “Won’t you put aside your prejudice for one day?”

Draco sighed but shook his head. “No, I’m really not in the right mind set to deal with Gryffindorks, let alone Potter.”

“You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I’m not _trying to_! Seriously, Pansy, we’ve gone seven years hating those idiotic lions, why are you all of a sudden trying to combine our houses?”

“Because they’re _people_ , Draco,” Pansy replied dryly. “And despite what you think they actually make rather good company.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Draco grumbled. “Just, go do your study thing with them and I’ll see you later tonight so we can do our Potions homework.”

“Actually I’ve asked Granger to help me today,” Pansy said, examining her nails.

“ _What?!_ But—but I’ve always helped you!”

“She has more patience than you do,” Pansy sniped. “And she uses words I can understand.”

Draco’s jaw dropped in outrage before he pouted and glared at his bed spread.

“Join us, Draco, please?”

He shook his head stubbornly, keeping his arms folded.

“Okay, fine.” Pansy sighed. “When you’re done sulking, we’ll be in the library.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Draco replied wryly, returning to his laptop.

With a glare from Pansy—which Draco pleasantly ignored—she left the prissy blond alone in his room, with only his laptop for comfort.

 _Who needs real people when I have followers?_ Draco thought snidely.

_And aren’t you lucky that Potter and Granger are two of them…?_

“Argh!”

 

* * *

 

“He didn’t wish to join us?” Hermione asked knowingly.

“No.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “He’s being such a prat.”

Hermione smiled gently. “Not to worry, we’ll get there one day.”

“Where’s Potter?”

“On his way,” Hermione replied. “He just had to finish something off.”

“Do you mind if we squeeze some homework in before he arrives? I just have a question to finish for Professor Snape that’s giving me some trouble,” Pansy asked.

“Sure,” Hermione agreed. “Let me guess, the one about the Wolfsbane Potion and its properties in assisting the werewolf change?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Even I had a bit of difficulty with that one and Harry had absolutely no idea,” Hermione grinned. “How far have you gotten?”

“I’ve managed to list the ingredients needed and their contribution to the potion but what really throws me off is why adding sugar makes it ineffective.”

“I know it threw me off as well,” Hermione agreed. “I’m still not overly sure as to why the ingredients refuse to work together with such a placid addition.”

“I doubt we’ll find an answer in our textbooks—I’m positive Professor Snape did that on purpose. I know that man enjoys knowing things his students don’t.”

“Shall we prove him wrong, then?”

And that was how Harry found them, sitting together hunched over their preliminary notes with a large Potions textbook open.

“Glad to see you saved a space for me,” Harry commented, waiting beside the desk. He knew if he was to reach down and even attempt at moving something out of the way he’d have his hand slapped.

“Sorry, we got a bit carried away,” Hermione replied, shifting a pile of notes off the table.

Harry slid into his seat and lowered his laptop bag to the floor. “What are you guys working on?” he asked.

“The Wolfsbane potion,” Hermione said. “You weren’t the only one to have some difficulty.”

“Oh please, Granger,” Pansy sniffed. “Merely a hint or two was all that I needed; don’t go comparing me to the Golden Boy.”

Hermione returned the Slytherin’s smirk. “My apologies.”

“Careful, Granger, people might start getting worried if they hear you apologising to a snake.”

“You’re absolutely correct, I withdraw my apology.”

“Ah even better, I’m turning you into a Slytherin!”

Hermione giggled, grinning at the brunet across from her. “So, Harry, how does it feel to be friends with a Lion-turned-Snake?”

“… No different to when you were just a lion,” Harry teased.

Hermione snorted. “Figures, men never notice anything.”

“Tell me about it,” Pansy muttered. “You and Draco should date, Potter, you share some major qualities.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed and he looked away. “Don’t even joke about that,” he said half-heartedly.

Both women observed the flustered Gryffindor with secret smiles.

 _Well isn’t that interesting…_ Hermione thought.

 _I can’t wait to tease Draco…_ Pansy smirked.

“So, um, are we going to study or what?” Harry asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

“Can we study about Potter’s love life? I find myself suddenly interested,” Pansy grinned evilly.

Harry’s face went red. “No!”

Hermione smiled kindly. “Relax, Harry, we’re not going to expose your secrets in the middle of the library.”

“We’re not?” Pansy pouted.

“No, we’re not,” Hermione said strongly.

“Gryffindors really are no fun,” Pansy moped.

“And Slytherins obviously have no pride.”

“Excuse me, Granger? Slytherins _are_ pride.”

“Of course, dear, you keep believing that.”

Harry was slightly amazed by their playing banter as they teased and insulted one another. It wasn’t like Hermione to be so easy-going, nor was it normal to see Parkinson so relaxed around others that weren’t from her own house.

“How come you’re studying with us and not Malfoy?” Harry asked.

“Because he’s being an arse,” Pansy replied simply. “I had asked him if he wanted to come today but he didn’t want to lower himself to our level.”

“Oh, the poor soul,” Hermione commented.

“Oh yes, isn’t he though? He actually took offense to me not wanting his brilliance! Talk about being on a pedestal.”

“Most men are I’m afraid.”

“Hey!”

“Oh no, not you, Potter, you’re practically one of the girls.”

“… I’d rather be on a pedestal.”

“No, no, you’re good here with us,” Hermione agreed, smiling at the confused male. Harry was too busy glancing around to see if anyone was witnessing their strange conversation. “Are we embarrassing you, Harry?”

“Er…”

“If he says yes he’ll be in trouble and if he says no he’ll be stuck with us.” Pansy laughed. “You are so predictable, Potter.”

“Can we just study?” Harry asked miserably. “I can’t keep up with you guys—and I don’t like it when you make fun of me.”

“Whinge, whinge, whinge…”

“No, Harry’s right,” Hermione said, stifling a smile. “We really should be studying.”

“Yeah I’d like to finish this so I can wave it in Draco’s face…”

“Good initiative.”

“I thought so.”

 _Good lord… it’s a good thing I prefer men…_ Harry thought, shaking his head minutely. _Girls are so strange…_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling generous so I'm going to post a few chapters ^_^ I've been swamped with exam study but I'm lucky enough to have a break at the moment so I thought it would be nice :D

Draco was miserable.

Annoyed, pushy, impatient, sulky, and miserable.

The younger years went out of their way to avoid him and even his closest friends were finding it hard to handle his attitude.

He didn’t mean to be so foul; after all, feeling as he did was not something he was used to. Malfoys were always in control, always strong and they _always_ looked good. He knew it wasn’t his friends fault, he knew he should be more patient but in all honesty Draco really could care less. For the first time since Draco had started at Hogwarts, he was not at the top of his game.

For the first time since beginning his schooling career, Draco Malfoy had the flu.

 

* * *

 

“Draco, you need to get up.”

“Goh away, I’m sig.”

“It’s not my fault you won’t go to Pomfrey!”                                                                                                                    

“She can’t helb anyway.” Draco sniffed pitifully. “Dis a new flu—nothing helbs.”

Pansy sighed, observing her sick friend as he wriggled further down into his blankets. “Draco, why don’t you go see Snape?”

“Already hab,” Draco whined. “Please, Pansy, I just wan to sleeb.”

“Alright fine,” Pansy said. “But so help me if you complain later about how I didn’t get you up to study.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Do you need anything while I’m here?”

“Just sub water please,” Draco replied, reaching for a disposable tissue. _Thank you, muggles…_

Not only did Pansy fetch him a glass of water but she also dampened a cloth to lie across his hot forehead. His cheeks were unnaturally flushed, contrasting oddly with his pale, although somewhat greyish, skin.

“Thag you, Pansy.”

“Just get better, alright? I’m not used to seeing you so ill,” Pansy said, a hint of worry evident in her voice.

“Haff the school already is,” Draco sniffed. “Anober reason why I do not wan to goh to the Hospital Wing.”

“God forbid you should share the same breathing space.”

“Exactly.”

Pansy snorted elegantly but decided against making another snide comment. Instead, she squeezed Draco’s hand, made sure he was set with everything he needed before leaving him to rest, exiting his room silently.

After casting a cleansing charm to be rid of any germs she may have gained whilst with her best friend, Pansy started off for the library with her laptop. Although most of her homework was in fact completed, the library at the moment was probably the safest place in regards to health and she had no plans on getting ill any time soon.

Silent and almost student free was how Pansy loved the library and she found herself a quiet little corner where she would hopefully not be disturbed.

 

* * *

 

“ _Harry_ ,” Ron whined from his makeshift bed.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, turning around from his bed where a very sick Hermione lay curled up.

“I neeb tissues.”

Harry summoned the box that lay on his bedside table and handed them to the red-head before returning to Hermione’s side, double checking her temperature.

“How’re you feeling, Mione?” he asked gently.

“Disgusting,” Hermione moped. “Do I loog as bad as I feel?”

Harry smiled gently. “Of course not.”

“Liar.”

“ _Harry_.”

“What is it, Ron?”

“I’m thirsty.”

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. “Now I know how Mrs Weasley feels.”

“And you’re doing a good job,” Hermione sniffed from beside him. “I can’t believe how fast this flu has spread.”

“Remind me again why we can’t goh to the Hospital Wing?” Ron grumbled as Harry handed him a glass of water.

“Because it’s full, Ronalb.”

“Madam Pomfrey has her hands full as it is,” Harry continued. “She and Professor Snape are trying to make another remedy but it’s difficult. The regular influenza virus mutates constantly making it difficult to supress—having a magical version of the virus makes it even more difficult.”

“At least we’re not sneezing bubbles or something,” Hermione coughed.

Harry chuckled. “So far I think you and Ron aren’t as bad as some of the others I’ve seen. Macmillan’s skin would change colour every time he sneezed.”

Ron chuckled as he blew his nose. “Now that I’b like to see.”

“Harry?” Hermione wheezed. “You—you won’ get sick as well, will you?”

Harry shook his head, offering a reassuring smile. “Not as long as I keep using the same charm Healers do when dealing with contagious patients.”

“Oh, good.”

“You guys should rest now, I’ll be around if you need me,” Harry said gently.

“But Ron snores.”

“Wha?”

“I’ll cast a silencing charm,” Harry promised.

Hermione smiled, pulling Harry’s duvet up to her chin. “Thag you for letting me stay in your bed, Harry.”

“Just don’t get your germs all over it,” Harry teased, making sure both Ron and Hermione had everything they needed.

“Oh! As if I would!”

 

* * *

Despite Pansy’s concern and arguments, the next morning found Draco Malfoy, foul attitude and all, seated stubbornly in their morning Potion’s class. With tissues in his right hand, head resting in his left, Draco attempted as best he could to focus on what his Professor was talking about.

They were going to begin a new chapter today and although half the class was absent thanks to the outbreak of flu, Snape was adamant that they press on; he refused to fall behind just because his students were ill.

 _I wonder if that’s where Potter’s posse are…_ Draco thought absentmindedly, eyes drifting over the bored brunet. Eyes slightly glazed and nose beginning to drip, Draco returned his gaze and blinked sleepily at his Head of House, finding that hardly any of the words spoken were actually sinking into his brain. Beside him, Pansy glanced worriedly at her best friend, noticing just how flushed his cheeks were becoming. She wondered if it were best to ask Snape to tell Draco to leave and go to bed.

 _Oh god Pansy’s staring again, I hope my nose isn’t red or something…_ Draco worried internally. _Nah… she would have told me…_

Movement roused Draco from his slight doze as students milled around for potion supplies. He sniffed miserably, wiped his nose with yet another tissue and got to his feet unsteadily, following Pansy to the supply cupboard. He watched the dark haired Slytherin fetch whatever it was they needed as he leant against the wall, wrapped his robes around him tightly as he shivered.

_Why is it always so goddamn cold…? Severus needs to invest in some fireplaces…_

A sneeze suddenly caught him off guard, nose tingling unpleasantly as he reached for more tissues, pulling them from the pocket in his robe. Pansy gazed at him, pity written all over her face.

“Stob dat,” Draco snapped. “You’re just taking too long iz all.”

Pansy rolled her eyes but didn’t bother replying as she grabbed the last ingredient. Draco had already stalked off to their table, slumped in his seat and begun to glare at his cauldron as if it were the cause of his misfortune. Pansy shot an obvious glance at Professor Snape, who was watching his godson curiously, silently telling the older man to do something. Snape however, knew just how stubborn Draco could be when it came to his school work and the older man would rather avoid the inevitable argument. Instead Severus minutely shook his head; indicating that it was useless to try just at the moment. Sighing impatiently but understanding her Professor’s predicament, Pansy seated herself down beside the ill blond and organised their ingredients.

“Don’t touch,” she said, slapping his hand away. “Not until you’ve decontaminated your hands.”

Scowling, Draco did as she said, flicking his wand wordlessly over each hand and halfway up his arms. He stared at her pointedly, sniffing with obvious distain. She snorted in reply, handing over a root for Draco cut.

“Since you’re apparently better than me at this, _you_ ’ _re_ on slicing duty,” Pansy instructed.

“I’ll slice _you_ in a second,” Draco grumbled. He reached for a knife, glaring at his hand as it shook. _Keep it together for Merlin’s sake…_

They worked in silence for the most part, the bubbling of theirs and other’s cauldrons the only source of noise in the classroom. Although Draco was trying his hardest to stay focused, he found his mind wandering often as odd thoughts took hold whilst his concentration was down.

 _Good lord Finnigan looks as bad as I feel…_ he snickered silently. _Typical that only a few Gryffindorks are here, they probably share germs through everything…_

He brushed aside the roots he’d sliced and took another, beginning to cut them distractedly as his train of thought drifted again.

 _I still want to know who it is that Potter likes…_ he grumbled. _I think I might demand a name…_

“Draco! Watch what you are doing,” Pansy hissed. “Your roots are abysmal.”

Blinking, Draco glanced down. _Oops…_

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“If you didn’t want to slice you could have said,” Pansy glared.

Draco just yawned tiredly in reply.

“Give them here,” Pansy demanded, taking away the roots as she began to murmur under her breath. “ _Bloody stubborn selfish idiot…_ ”

“I cab hear you,” Draco stated.

“Good!”

Folding his arms, Draco leant back in his chair with a pout. “I’m nob being selfith.”

“You should have stayed in bed,” Pansy replied. “Keeping your germs to yourself and not having me worry that you’re going to pass out at any second.”

“I’m nob going to—”

“Here, mash these together.”

Draco snatched the bowl she offered and proceeded to do so, shooting her dark looks all the while. Pansy on the other hand, trailed her finger across the page of her textbook as she made sure when to add each element. This particular potion was tricky, a typical favourite of Snape’s.

 _Where’s Granger when you need her?_ Pansy thought.

“Dis smells disgusting,” Draco whinged, sneezing once again. “ _Ugh_.”

“It’s meant to,” Pansy replied, stirring the potion counter-clockwise thrice as instructed.

“I thig I’m going toh be sick.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Shut ub, Pansy, I’m allowed toh do whatever the hell I wan’.”

“I swear on your soon-to-be-grave I will murder you if you do.”

“Whateber,” Draco griped, hand fumbling with a vial of glistening tiny black eyes. His stomach swirled threateningly, sweat breaking out over his forehead. Despite getting up this morning feeling a _little_ better, as the day wore on Draco found himself regretting ever leaving his room.

 _Maybe I should go back to bed…_ he thought, tipping the vial into the cauldron.

“Draco—don’t!”

An explosion of purple smoke suddenly erupted from the potion and bright green sparkles shot out in every direction. The stench was absolutely foul and Draco felt his stomach lurch horridly as he lent to the side, dry retching. His stomach muscles clenched painfully and his eyes watered in response.

Snape swooped straight to his side, uncorked a vial and shoved it beneath the blond’s nose. One sniff of the familiar scent had Draco downing the contents, relieved at the immediate effect it had on his stomach.

“Go back to bed, Draco, you are not well,” Snape stated.

Draco nodded miserably, hand groping for his bag as he got to his feet.

“Wait, Draco, I’ll go—”

“N-No, Pansy,” Draco managed. “Please I—I wan’ to goh alone.”

Pansy sighed but remained sitting. “I’ll check on you during break.”

Nodding once more, Draco stumbled dizzily from the classroom and made his way through the dark corridors. Thank Merlin he was a Slytherin—he couldn’t imaging even attempting to climb all of those stairs right now.

Back in the potions lab, Harry had manoeuvred himself to Pansy’s table, laying a careful hand on her arm.

“You alright? The potion didn’t get on you did it?”

“No,” Pansy sighed. “It’s him I’m worried about—Draco’s _never_ fucked up a potion before.”

“Yeah I know… I actually sort of feel bad for him.”

“How noble of you, Potter.”

“He’s not well, he’s deserves some sympathy I guess.” Harry smiled crookedly. “Do you need a hand?”

“No it’s alright, but thank you,” Pansy replied. “Wash your hands though just in case, I’m sure Draco’s germs are all over me.”

“Ugh, Malfoy cooties!”

“You love it,” Pansy teased.

“No more than you,” Harry smirked, returning to his own table.

 

* * *

 

Draco coughed, groaned, and rolled over to grab his wand. A quick time spell showed that it was almost time for dinner and yet he was still undecided if he wanted to go.

_I really should… I haven’t eaten anything all day…_

He rubbed a hand over his face. After his potions accident this morning Draco wasn’t really feeling up to acting social nor was he in the mood to deal with anyone who tried to tease him about it.

 _Namely Pansy…_ he thought drily.

In spite of his ever growing negative thoughts, Draco soon found himself out of bed and searching for comfortable clothes to wear beneath his school robes. He refused to look at his reflection, preferring the oblivious approach to how he imagined he appeared.

 _I’m sure I’m fine… nothing to worry about…_ he thought sleepily.

Trekking down the staircase and through the Slytherin common room, Draco was just leaving the dungeons and advancing towards the Great Hall doors when a little fourth year Gryffindor approached him looking rather timid.

“Um, excuse me—Draco Malfoy?”

“Yes?” Draco replied bluntly.

“P-Professor McGonagall wants to see you.”

Draco sighed internally. _Probably for missing her class today although I’m pretty sure she already knows why? Severus can vouch for me if this gets out of hand…_

Unaware that the fourth year had run off, Draco made his way slowly up the long staircase, casting a longing glace back to where he could see the Great Hall.

“Of _all_ the times…” Draco grumbled, pulling out another tissue to wipe his nose. “I haven’ even done anything _wrong_.”

He arrived at her office just as the Professor was stepping out, straightening her hat and casting an odd glance at Draco.

“Can I help you, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco blinked blankly. “I was told you wanted to see me.”

McGonagall’s eyes sharpened. “I requested no such thing. Be on your way, Mr Malfoy, you look in need of a good bed,” she said, started in the opposite direction down the corridor.

Draco only nodded, his mind a puddle of confusion as he turned to walk back the way he’d come. _Why would that silly Gryffindor say otherwise? God, they all need their brains examined…_

With his attention thoroughly distracted, he did not notice two little forms crouched in the shadows beside the top of the stairs, nor did he suspect a tripping jinx until it was cast. His legs locked together, torso pitching forward as Draco received a grand look of how very long the stairs really were.

 _Well isn’t this a plebeian way to perish?_ He thought sourly, closing his eyes as he fell.

His body suddenly halted, stilling in mid-air. Draco willed his eyes to open, finding himself face to face with the staircase.

_What the actual fuck…?_

As his body began to rise and the tripping jinx removed, Draco started to count himself lucky that Professor McGonagall just happened to be near—

“Pottah?”

“Are you alright?” Harry asked.

“Er—I guess?” Draco replied, brain buzzing. Harry’s relief was obvious even to him until he turned to face the culprits. His expression changed instantly, green eyes alight with fury and disappointment as he stared at the two young Gryffindors.

“What on earth do you think you were doing?” Harry asked dangerously.

“Playing a little joke,” the one who had sent Draco up said proudly.

“You could have _killed_ him!”

“So?” the other Gryffindor scoffed. “Why do you even care?”

“I am thoroughly disgusted by the both of you,” Harry hissed. “Fifty points from Gryffindor. Each.”

“ _Each?_ ” they both shouted.

“You might be expelled yet,” Harry replied nastily, summoning their wands with a silent spell. “Both of you will come with me.” He turned to face Draco whose face looked even paler than before. “You should probably come as well, Malfoy, I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will want to hear what you have to say.”

Draco blinked again, wishing his brain would catch up to the conversation. “…okay,” was all he said.

“I know you’d probably rather be in bed—you look like hell.”

“Shut up, Pottah.”

Instead of insulting the Gryffindor, Draco was surprised to see the brunet smile.

“Just expressing my concern,” Harry said with a smirk, turning away. “You two, ahead of me right now.”

 

* * *

 

It was ten thirty and Draco was only just getting back to his bedroom. Twenty seven times, the Headmaster, Professor Snape  _and_ Professor McGonagall had demanded to hear what had happened.  _Twenty seven times_ Potter never swayed or tried to blame Draco for what had happened.

In the end, the two boys were not expelled as Severus demanded they be. Instead, they were both suspended and given detentions for the rest of the school year, to be spent with both Snape and McGonagall. All privileges were revoked and a note was made on their records. Draco was that bone tired he didn’t even care. Potter had seemed outraged on his behalf though, agreeing with Professor Snape that their actions weren’t just idiotic and silly, but cold blooded and just plain nasty.

_“I heard it for myself, Professor Dumbledore, neither boy cared it Malfoy had been killed! In fact, they were hoping for it!”_

Draco shivered. The passion in Potter’s voice had definitely been stimulating to say the least but he was still amazed at the fact that _Potter_ was defending _him_.

“It juss doesn’ make sense,” he moped, removing his cloak.

 _What doesn’t? The fact that Potter might actually like you?_ His subconscious flared into life and Draco groaned aloud.

“And that within itself doesn’ make sense,” Draco replied. “Pottah _doesn’t_ like me.”

_I disagree…_

“Of course you do,” Draco growled. “You always disagree.”

_When are you going to face facts? Is it really that horrible if the man you desire actually desires you in return?_

“I don’ know,” Draco sniffed. “Be quiet, brain, please.”

_You’ll thank me one day… and you know it…_

“Goodnight.”

Draco extinguished every last source of light and buried himself into his duvet. Shivers from his growing fever shook him restlessly and he absently thought about the potion Severus had instructed he take.

_I can take it tomorrow… too tired now…_

Sleep took him instantly, a tissue held tightly in one of his hands.


	11. Chapter 11

“Are you feeling better, Mione?” Harry asked, spying the female as she descended the stairs.

“Yes actually,” she smiled. “Nose is still dripping but I think the worst of it is gone now.”

“How about Ron? I haven’t gone to check on him this morning,” Harry said, closing his art book inconspicuously.

“He’s still bed ridden I’m afraid,” Hermione sighed. “I have a feeling though that he’s not as bad as he makes himself out to be.”

“Typical.” Harry chuckled. “Well I’m done playing nurse-maid. If I see another grotty tissue anywhere near me I’m going to flip.”

Hermione giggled softly, taking a seat beside Harry near the fireplace. “So what are you drawing?”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “Um, nothing at the moment,” he replied elusively. “Just thinking of ideas, you know?”

“Uh huh,” Hermione replied, offering a disbelieving look. Harry returned it with a sheepish one of his own.

“It’s… nothing you’d like I’m sure,” he said instead. “Quidditch stuff mostly.”

“You don’t post many pictures on Tumblr anymore,” Hermione pouted. “And I need a new profile picture—draw me again?”

Harry chuckled. “Okay.” He cautiously flipped his book open, hiding all drawings of Malfoy as carefully as he could. Harry still couldn’t believe how close the Slytherin had been to getting seriously hurt the other day; he’d also never been so appalled at his own house before. Harry had told Hermione what had happened and she as well had been livid at the audacity of the two boys. He’d expected Hermione to be surprised that he had saved Malfoy but the bushy-haired female had only congratulated him. Ron, on the other hand, had wondered why Harry just didn’t let Malfoy fall.

“Ronald!” Hermione had scolded. “Have you no humanity?”

“But—but its Malfoy,” Ron pouted in reply.

“Doesn’t matter, I think Harry acted admirably,” Hermione stated strongly. “Maybe now Malfoy will start treating him as if he’s human.”

 _Not bloody likely…_ Harry thought, drifting back to the present. A small part of him, however, hoped that Hermione was correct.

“How do you want me?”

“Hmm? Oh, however you want I guess,” Harry replied. “How do _you_ want to look?”

“I like the natural concept,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Maybe I should read a book?”

Harry chuckled. “That’s a little _too_ natural.”

“Shut up.”

“How about I go upstairs and grab Ron?” Harry wriggled his eyebrows suggestively and Hermione threw a pillow in response.

“I’m still waiting for him to tell me that he supposedly likes me,” she replied.

“Why don’t you tell him?” Harry asked instead.

A blush tinged her cheeks. “Because,” she started. “Because—ugh, Harry, we’ve been over this. I don’t even know if he actually like me.”

“But I’ve told you he does,” Harry frowned. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I _do_ but…” Hermione sighed heavily. “I don’t know, I guess I was hoping that he would say something first...”

“ _Girls_ ,” Harry muttered. “You’re all the same.”

“Oh be quiet—you’re one of us now.”

“I am not!”

“Are you going to draw me or not?”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

“Please, please, please?”

“Okay fine, just let me run upstairs and grab some stuff,” Harry said with a huff. He left his book on his seat, dashing up the stairs to his room. As soon as he disappeared up the stairwell, Hermione dived across to where Harry had been sitting, hands enclosing over his book as she flicked through the newest additions. A smirk spread across her lips as her eyes tracked over the familiar figure.

“I knew it,” she breathed, admiring the way Harry had captured Malfoy’s… pleasant side. She’d known that Harry was up to something every time she caught him sneaking out. She’d taken to heading upstairs to his dormitory, finding his map and tracking his footsteps. The first time she’d seen his name alongside Draco Malfoy’s she’d been shocked until she noticed that they weren’t actually close enough to be talking or fighting or _anything_ physical really. Time after time Hermione had come to the conclusion that Harry must be drawing the blond, capturing the natural essence of their hated enemy.

“Somebody’s smitten,” she smiled, replacing Harry’s art book and hiding all evidence that she’d been near it. She was curling up in her seat with a book when Harry returned, suspecting nothing as he retook his place, pencil in hand.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep,” Hermione replied.

“Do you mind moving aside? I need to make sure I get the book _perfect_.”

“Don’t be mean,” Hermione frowned playfully.

“Then stop calling me a girl,” Harry said.

“Ruin all my fun…”

“It’s not fun for _me_.”

“To-may-to, to-mar-to,” Hermione grinned.

“What do tomatoes have to do with it?”

“It’s just a saying,” Hermione said exasperatedly, rolling her eyes.

Unable to be bothering to figure out exactly why the pronunciation of tomatoes was important, Harry instead began his new drawing of Hermione, something _he_ was exceptional at for a change. With his enjoyment beginning to flow, Harry sat comfortably whilst Hermione became lost in her novel.

There were only a few morning stragglers hanging around in the dormitory as many had escaped to the frost outside, not doubt attacking each other with snowballs. Harry preferred the quiet anyhow; with next to no distractions he was able to focus on Hermione directly.

Halfway through, Hermione’s gaze flickered over to the brunet, questions burning on the tip of her tongue. She wanted nothing more than to sate her curiosity in regards to Harry’s crush but she knew her best friend, and she knew there was a chance he could overreact negatively. On the other hand, she _might_ be able to help him get Malfoy’s attention…

“Mione? Everything alright?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Oh.” Hermione blinked and smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, my mind got carried away.”

“Did you want to take a break?” Harry asked.

“Actually that sounds like a good idea,” Hermione said, pondering that now would be a good chance to speak to him. “I want to ask you something.”

Closing his art book carefully, Harry cocked his head to the side and gazed at the female. “What about?”

Hermione glanced around the common room. “Not here, somewhere else.”

Harry smiled then, coming to the conclusion that Hermione must want to ask him something about Ron. “Sure, let’s head up to my room.”

Hermione snapped her book shut and followed the brunet up to his room. She could see that he was rather excited about their talk—the reason behind why though, Hermione couldn’t be sure. There was no way he could have guessed that she knew so there would of course, _have_ to be another reason.

 _He probably thinks I’m ready to ask Ron out or something…_ she rolled her eyes and shook her head minutely. _Harry, you are extremely predictable…_

As soon as the door to Harry’s room was closed, Hermione began just as Harry opened his mouth.

“Before you begin no, I am not here to discuss Ronald,” Hermione said, folding her arms and watching as Harry’s face fell.

“Well—um, what did you want to talk about then?” he asked, holding his art book closer to his chest.

“Actually, about you and your crush on Draco Malfoy.”

Harry’s face paled several shades. “W-What?” he whispered.

Hermione sighed. “Harry, relax,” she said soothingly. “I know, okay? I know and I want to help you.”

“B-But how?” Harry whimpered. He glanced down at his book. “Did you—”

“Yes I looked,” Hermione admitted. “And I’m sorry that I sneaked a peak but I only did because I knew you had been meeting up near him when you went on your walks.”

“You followed me?”

“On the map.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you were lying to me, Harry.” Hermione lifted an eyebrow. “I was worried.”

A mix of emotions were passing over Harry’s face and Hermione wondered which emotion would be the one to win. She stood by carefully, keeping her expression neutral as Harry came to terms with what she had told him.

“I completely understand if you’re upset with me,” she said. “But I want you to know that I’m okay with it—you and Malfoy that is,” she continued gently. “I know Malfoy a little better now and I—I may have already been attempting to get you together.”

Harry blinked. “Really?” he asked, hope evident in his tone.

Hermione smiled. “Really.”

Harry backed up until his legs hit the mattress and he sat, art book still held tightly in his arms. Hermione went to go sit beside him, taking one of his hands and giving it a squeeze.

“I don’t think drawing Malfoy in secret though is the best way to go around,” she murmured. “It’s a little creepy.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “It was just the easiest way, you know?” He opened his art book and began flipping through the pages. “I get to see him when he’s just himself—no anger, no sarcasm… it was nice being able to capture how he acts without my presence influencing that.”

“Maybe if you put in the effect to get to know each other properly?”

“He’d never,” Harry replied sadly. “Pansy asks him to come to our study groups and he doesn’t. He avoids me, Mione.”

“Mmm, it’s true he does,” Hermione commented. “I wonder if we can change that.”

“Mione?”

“Just leave it to me and Pansy,” she smiled. “We’ll get you and Malfoy speaking one way or another.”

Harry grinned, green eyes brightening. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean you’re staying here for Christmas?” Pansy asked, outraged.

Draco stared at her pointedly. “I’ve already told you, Pansy. Father is travelling and Mother has been invited to spend the holidays with a friend of hers in France. I for one do not wish to be stuck there or home alone.”

“I would have come to keep you company at home,” Pansy sulked. “I won’t be able to see you until we get back!”

“Woe is you,” Draco snorted, stretching leisurely and placing his laptop aside.

“Fine, you don’t get your present until I get back then.”

“That’s not fair!”

Pansy smirked. “Woe is you.”

Draco folded his arms with a huff. “Why aren’t you staying? I thought your parents were going away as well.”

“They cancelled it,” Pansy replied. “I’m much too important for them to leave behind…”

“What’s the real reason?”

Pansy smirked. “Father’s work needs him. Not that they’re terribly upset, it was only to visit relatives.” Her expression softened then. “Why don’t you stay with us?”

Draco smiled gently but shook his head. “Thank you, Pansy, but I’ll be alright here. I’ll have the common room all to myself—it’ll be fantastic.”

“What if Potter and his posse stay as well?” Pansy asked.

“Firstly, I’ll only have to bear their presence during meals. Secondly, I have the privacy of my bedroom. Thirdly, I overheard that the Weasel and Granger are not staying for the holidays despite that Potter is. Thankfully it’s just him I have to avoid.”

“I thought you liked Granger?”

“I tolerate her,” Draco corrected.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Guess this means you and Potter will have some quality time together,” she winked. “Just remember to practise safe sex, Draco, alright?”

“Ugh, Pansy, get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Never it’s much too fun down here—you really must join me.”

“You’re a sick little Slytherin.”

“Loud and proud!”

Draco was unable to prevent the smile that tugged at his lips. “Despite everything I think I’m going to miss you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Of course not.”

Pansy lounged back on his bed. “Will you write?”

“If you had internet at home we could email,” Draco replied.

“Maybe I’ll get some,” Pansy pondered, tapping a finger against her lips. “Um, how do you get it?”

“You’ll have to go to a muggle town,” Draco said. “The easiest way would be to purchase a prepaid USB device. That way you don’t have to give as many details.”

“How awkward,” Pansy giggled. “Occupation: Currently enrolled as a witch.”

Draco chuckled. “That and you have to be of adult muggle age which isn’t until you’re eighteen.”

“Really? How plebeian.”

“Exactly.”

“How do those poor souls survive that extra year? Muggles really are strange,” Pansy said thoughtfully.

“So what is it you need to buy?” Draco questioned.

“Um, an internet device thingy,” Pansy recounted. “Prepaid.”

“An internet _USB_ prepaid device,” Draco corrected. “It doesn’t really matter what company you go with just make sure you look at a few of their deals so you know you’re getting the better one.”

“What sort of deals are the better ones?”

“You’ll basically be paying for gigabytes of internet—that’s the amount of downloads you’ll be receiving.” At Pansy’s confused face Draco sighed and waved his hand. “Don’t worry about that for now,” he said. “At the moment the one I use at home gives me ten gigabytes for around thirty pounds.”

“Pounds?”

“English currency, I’ll make you a conversion chart later.”

“Thanks,” Pansy said brightly.

“When you run out of downloads—so when your internet stops working—you’ll need to go and buy some more,” Draco finished. “Most of the devices are reasonably priced; some are more expensive than others though. I use a turbo one which provides me with faster internet but I paid more for it.”

“Huh okay, maybe I’ll just go find the one you use,” Pansy thought. “Do you mind writing it down for me?”

Draco explained a little more to Pansy so she was well versed when it came to purchasing. She seemed to catch on pretty fast, something Draco was secretly proud about. He was handing her a piece of parchment with the necessary information when her expression suddenly changed and he frowned inquisitively, asking her if anything was wrong.

“Not _wrong,_ it’s just…” she sighed. “Can we speak seriously now?”

“Depends on what it is,” Draco replied, heart beginning to thump.

 _Bet it’s about Potter…_ his subconscious thought smugly.

“It’s about Potter.”

“I figured,” Draco mumbled unhappily.

“I was chatting with Granger the other day,” Pansy began. “She seems keen to get the two of you together.”

“ _Granger_ wants Potter and me to date?” Draco asked in surprise. “What the hell has the world come to?!”

“Draco, listen,” Pansy frowned. “Granger isn’t known for her amazing sense of humour and it was obvious she was being serious. I really, really think Potter likes you.”

“And yet all this is from girl’s gossip?”

“ _Draco_.”

The blond sighed heavily. “What do you want me to do, Pansy?” he asked resignedly.

“Give Potter a chance?” Pansy suggested. “There will be hardly anyone here during the Christmas break; you should get to know him better.”

“What would be the point?” Draco grumbled, refusing to look Pansy in the eye.

“You like him.”

“So?”

“Don’t you want to do something about it?” Pansy frowned. “Ignore the school, ignore the inevitable gossip, just _think_ about you and Potter. There’s something there that intrigues you—why don’t you find out what that is?”

“Because it’s Potter for Merlin’s sake!” Draco pouted. “God, Pansy…” a small whimper passed his lips. “I just—I can’t take the risk,” he whispered.

Draco looked so defeated Pansy didn’t have the heart to tease him. Instead, she crawled up beside him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Potter would never take advantage of you,” she whispered in reply. “And if he did I would castrate him.”

Draco smiled gently. “I know,” he murmured.

“Just think about it?” Pansy said.

“Maybe.”

 _Maybe is better than a no_ … Pansy thought. “Just remember to keep an open mind. Potter isn’t as crafty or quiet as a snake, he tends to wear his heart on his sleeve.”

Draco frowned. “Actually, not as much as you think.”

“Excuse me?”

A blush flared in Draco’s cheeks. “Nothing.”

“Draco Malfoy you tell me right now!”

“ _Merlin_ you’re pushy!” Draco complained. “Fine. Potter isn’t as rowdy as everything thinks. I’ve noticed he prefers to be alone in quiet places, especially when he draws.”

“I knew you’d been watching him,” Pansy smiled. “ _You can’t help it…_ ” she sang.

“Shut up,” Draco replied, wishing his cheeks would stop burning.

“Draco and Potter sitting in a tree…”

“No Christmas gift for you either!”

“I can live with that.” Pansy smirked at his red cheeks. “Blushing bride.”

A look of horror crossed Draco’s face. “Don’t even joke about that!”

“Okay, okay, Potter’s the blushing bride.”

“God hasn’t the train gone yet? Why are you still here?”

Pansy giggled at Draco’s teasing. “I’ll miss you as well Drakey-poo!”

“Where the hell is Blaise when you need him?!”

 

* * *

 

“Do you have everything?” Harry asked from Ron’s bed, watching as the red-head tried in vain to shut his overly full trunk.

“I—think—so,” Ron replied, shoving the lid shut. At last the clasps snapped into place and Ron slumped against his trunk, panting. “So… what are you going to do whilst Mione and I are gone?”

Harry shrugged. “Just hang around the castle I suppose.”

“Didn’t Mione invite you to go to France with her?” Ron asked.

“Yeah…” Harry scratched his head. “But I’m not overly interested in France. Besides, I didn’t want to impose.”

“And you’re _sure_ you don’t want come to with us to see Bill and Fleur?”

Harry smiled at his best friend. “Don’t worry about it, mate, I’m looking forward to the peace and quiet.”

“You’re not staying for a secret boyfriend you’ve been hiding are you?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“If _only_ ,” Harry moped. “No secret boyfriend for me.”

“And here I was willing and waiting,” Seamus grinned, joining the two. He bounced onto the bed beside Harry, pulling the shocked brunet into a rough half-hug. “Don’t worry, Harrykins, I’ll be your secret boyfriend.”

“Lay off, Seamus,” Harry chuckled, shoving the boy away. “Lavender won’t be too happy to hear you say that.”

“Oh yeah…”

“Since when did Seamus know you were gay, Harry?” Ron asked.

“Harry’s gay?” Seamus asked in amusement. “Lovely! Let’s set him up with Neville.”

“Nice going, Ron,” Harry said, trying and failing, to appear put out.

“There, there, Harrykins,” Seamus crooned. “I’m pretty sure half of Gryffindor has guessed that you are.”

“That’s… reassuring…”

“Saves girls the heartbreak you know? They can get over it now so they don’t have to hope.”

“Seamus, your logic is ridiculous,” Ron grunted, shoving his trunk towards the door.

“Actually…” Harry began. “If I did come out then I wouldn’t have to worry about girls and hopefully I’d have a better chance at finding a guy since my preferences would be known.”

“So you want to come out… just so you can find a guy?” Seamus questioned.

“Well, yeah,” Harry replied, frowning at his friend pointedly. “Duh.”

“How are you going to do that?” Ron asked.

“I’ll just stop hiding,” Harry shrugged. “I’m not exactly going to announce it at breakfast but if someone asks I’m not going to lie.”

“Take that You-Know-Who! Harry might decide to date you instead!”

“Ugh, Seamus! That’s foul!”

“Don’t judge him just cause he doesn’t have a nose, Harry! Prejudiced Gryffindor…”

Harry snorted, shoving his friend off the bed. “It should be against the law to include Voldemort in jokes.”

“Tell me about it,” Ron breathed, calming his heart after his imagination decided to show him how Harry and Voldemort would look as a couple. “Het, mate, you’d never—um—you know…”

“Fall for Voldemort? _Ugh!_ Ron! Why would you think that?”

Ron’s relief was obvious and Harry rolled his eyes, wondering when the universe had swapped his friends for morons.

“You’re both insane,” Harry declared.

“And you love us for it,” Seamus grinned, blinking endearingly.

“Unfortunately,” Harry sighed.


	12. Chapter 12

“ _I really, really think Potter likes you…_ ”

Pansy’s echoing voice was a constant presence in Draco’s mind as he wandered the castle. Ever since their conversation before Christmas break, Draco found himself slowly coming to terms with the inevitable. So he liked Potter, what was the big deal? Pansy seemed convinced that Potter happened to return his feelings; it wasn’t the end of the world was it? He supposed it really should be labelled as a good thing.

He’d never understood why Potter hadn’t accepted his hand in their first year and it wasn’t until his fifth year he had finally come to terms that yes he, Draco Malfoy, could sometimes, perhaps, _maybe_ …

… be a right pain the arse.

However, things were different now and Draco was sick and tired of maintaining the same charade he and Potter had kept since the beginning of their schooling. His denial was done and Draco figured it was about time he began making an effort in regards to understanding Potter.

_Welcome to the final stage… acceptance…_

Draco smiled wryly, ignoring his subconscious as he entered the Great Hall for dinner. Instead of having a few places set up on their regular house tables, Dumbledore had insisted that they all sit together at a smaller table for the duration of the holidays seeing as there were only a few students who had elected to stay. Already, eight of the ten seats were occupied by either a student or teacher, leaving either a spot opposite Potter and beside a young Ravenclaw girl or a seat in between a rather large Hufflepuff boy and a grumpy looking Gryffindor.

 _It would seem as if the universe is playing in your favour…_ Draco’s subconscious said smugly.

“It’s now or never,” Draco murmured. Straightening his spine, Draco made his way to the seat opposite Potter, sliding in gracefully and nodding towards the slightly surprised Gryffindor.

“Potter.”

The brunet blinked. “Malfoy.”

“Enjoying your holidays?”

“Um, yes?” Potter frowned inquisitively at the blond. “Why the pleasantries?”

A small smile tugged at Draco’s lips. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Potter grinned awkwardly. “No, but I am curious as to what put you in a good enough mood to start talking to me.”

“I decided to give each of us a break; I’ll return immediately to being an arse if you want me to.” Although he kept his face blank, Draco enjoyed the sound of Potter’s laugh.

“This is fine,” Harry smiled, eyes brightening.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Dumbledore smiled as he joined them, sitting himself down at the head of the table. “Surrounded by friends and loved ones during such a joyous holiday.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow to the young man opposite him. Potter smirked in response.

“Afraid to be my friend, Malfoy?” Potter asked challengingly.

Draco’s eyebrow rose even higher. “You wish.”

 

* * *

 

Harry’s mind was still reeling from the sudden change in Malfoy’s attitude. When the blond had sat opposite him, Harry had immediately assumed he’d be ignored for the majority of the night, not having a relatively friendly conversation instead.

_This is bloody crazy! Why is Malfoy being so nice all of a sudden?_ Questions buzzed and swirled endlessly through his mind and Harry found himself wondering if he should be concerned about Malfoy’s behaviour. _Hermione did say she’d try and get us together… did she tell Pansy? Maybe Malfoy’s just humouring me…_

A deep sadness suddenly entered his chest. _I hope that’s not true…_ Harry thought miserably.

“Potter, I demand you pull this with me.”

Harry blinked, staring at the large Christmas cracker the blond was waving in front of his face. He’d almost forgotten that Hogwarts went overboard with the Christmas crackers during the few days leading up to the joyous holiday. He smiled minutely. “If you insist.”

With a _pop_ and a _bang_ the cracker exploded into a cloud of gold smoke, a small game of wizard’s chess and a silver crown falling onto the table.

“Ugh, silver. Potter, you can have that.”

“I thought you liked silver?” Harry frowned.

“Not on my hair.” Malfoy pointed out obviously. “You’d barely be able to see it.”

“We’ll have to find you a green one then,” Harry grinned, placing the crown on his head. “What do you think?”

“You’re not a total loss.”

Harry waved his hand dismissively. “I already knew that,” he said teasingly. “Here, we’ll try this one.” He picked up the cracker that sat beside his plate, offering it to Malfoy who took the other end without hesitation. A puff of maroon coloured smoke later, a little toy broom and a green tiara with silver jewels landed on the table.

“This will go great with your hair,” Harry smirked, picking up the tiara and turning it so it sparkled in the candlelight.

“Don’t even think about it, Potter,” Malfoy snorted. “I refuse to wear that.”

Thinking quickly, Harry altered the colour of his crown to a deep emerald green and passed it over the disgruntled blond.

“How about this?” Harry smiled, putting the tiara onto his own head. “Happy?”

“I’m not _un_ happy,” Malfoy replied, placing the crown on his head. “This obviously looks better on me anyway.”

“Don’t be jealous that I’m prettier than you.”

A quiet voice prevented Malfoy from replying but from the cheeky glint in his silver eyes, Harry was pretty sure he knew what it would have been.

“Um, Harry, would you like to pull this with me?”

The young Ravenclaw girl gazed shyly at the brunet and Harry offered a kind smile in return.

“Sure, Lindy,” he said, taking the other end of her cracker.

This time the cloud was a pretty pink and a large purple velvet top hat fell out. A dozen chocolate frogs quickly followed, landing all over their plates.

“Did you want the hat, Harry?” Lindy asked, snagging herself one of the chocolate frogs.

Harry smiled but shook his head. “Thanks, Lindy, but I’m good with my tiara,” he winked.

 

* * *

 

Draco was secretly pleased that Harry declined the purple velvet top hat for his own tiara and that within itself made the blond groan inwardly.

_I am such a Hufflepuff!_

_He does look good in that tiara though…_ his subconscious added helpfully.

Draco sighed, hoping dinner would appear soon just so his mind had something else to think about instead. He surprised even himself with his attitude this evening—he and Potter were actually having a conversation! Maybe it wasn’t entirely possible for them to connect in one way or another.

 _True enough he’s not as bad as I imagined…_ Draco thought, watching another dazzling smile cross over Potter’s face. _And he’s much more pleasant than I thought…_

_The question is though, does he like you in return or was Pansy just teasing…?_

“Oh yum, roast lamb!” Lindy said excitedly from beside him, startling Draco from his thoughts.

The house elves had obviously forgotten that only five students had remained in the school judging by the amount of food now sitting on their table. It was another shock to discover that both his and Potter’s goblets had been filled with an appetising wine rather than the usual pumpkin juice.

“Sir?” Potter asked, turning to the Headmaster. “I didn’t think it was appropriate for students to drink alcohol.”

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore smiled gently at the puzzled brunet. “You and Mr Malfoy are of age, I thought it would be fitting for the two of you to indulge this evening.”

“Relax, Potter,” Draco smirked, taking a sip of his drink, “and enjoy being an adult.” The pleasant taste on his tongue was a welcome surprise and he swallowed greedily, recognising the familiar strong essence of elderflower wine.

 _The Headmaster is full of surprises…_ Draco thought wryly. Replacing his goblet, Draco began to dish up his own meal, attempting to keep his gaze from wandering to Potter. The brunet seemed to enjoy the taste of his wine and Draco wondered if the brunet had a favourite.

 _Don’t tell me you’re already thinking of a Christmas gift for him…?_ His subconscious sneered.

 _It was a fleeting thought that’s all!_ Draco denied silently. _We’d never become that close in such a short period of time…_

 _A lot can happen in a few days…_ his subconscious retorted.

* * *

Harry’s mind was buzzing.

The lack of confusion however, was a welcome change. This particular buzz was because of the three glasses of wine he’d consumed with dinner, leaving Harry very contented as he spoke effortlessly with Malfoy across the table. So far their conversation had been easy, keeping to topics that they both agreed on—namely Quidditch. Other interests of theirs began to surface and Harry discovered a few things he’d never known about Malfoy.

This particular Slytherin did not in fact find snakes all that appealing. When Harry had asked Malfoy if he had a favourite animal, the brunet had been surprised to see a faint blush tinge Malfoy’s cheeks.

“I enjoy the company of cats,” Malfoy had admitted. “You tell anyone and you’re a dead man.”

After Harry had finished laughing, he’d admitted a secret of his own to make the Slytherin feel a little better.

“I don’t like dogs,” Harry had said. “They scare me like nothing else.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Bad experiences when I was younger.”

Although Harry hadn’t elaborated on that particular subject, it had felt good to share something with Malfoy and not be ridiculed for it.

With dinner done and half eaten deserts lining the table, Harry basked in the warm glow of the evening, enjoying the freedom as he drank deeply from his goblet. He wished that the night did not have to end; he wished that he could speak this freely with Malfoy all the time. There was something intriguing about the blond that fascinated Harry and yet he could not pinpoint what it was. Whatever the reason, Harry was finding himself more and more compelled to be in Malfoy’s company.

“Whether I can blame it on the wine or not, I’m finding myself actually enjoying this conversation,” Malfoy smirked.

“See what happens when you extend your social circle?” Harry teased.

“So not all Boys-Who-Lived are arrogant, what a surprise!”

Harry sniggered. “Didn’t realise you knew so many, maybe I’m not one in a million after all.”

“In that tiara, Potter, you most definitely are,” Malfoy smiled.

“Was that a heavily disguised compliment?”

“Either or.”

Harry grinned, downing the last of his wine. As he replaced it on the table, the goblet refilled itself and Harry began to mentally count how many he’d had so far.

“You’ve had four,” Malfoy suddenly said.

Harry blinked in surprise. “How did you know I was trying to figure that out?”

Malfoy shrugged, lifting his own goblet to his lips. “You’re easy to read.”

Harry eyed the blond curiously, noticing yet another faint flush on Malfoy’s cheeks.

_I wonder…_

Around them, some of the teachers and students had excused themselves from the table, leaving only Professor McGonagall, Professor Trelawney and Lindy. The professors were deep in a conversation, laughing at odd times as Trelawney refilled their glasses with sherry. Harry was sure he’d never seen his head of house so relaxed, especially with the Divination teacher. At that moment though it somehow made sense.

After all, he and Malfoy had been at complete odds until this evening and seeing others getting over their differences to enjoy themselves made Harry feel strangely warm.

“Shall we ditch this party and make our own?”

 _I must be hearing things…_ “Did you say what I think you just said?” Harry asked incredulously.

Malfoy smirked. “What do you reckon, Potter? Shall we take our newly found friendship and see how long it takes for us to get sick of one another?”

“Sure, where did you have in mind?” Harry replied, feeling much more confident than usual.

“Let’s head back to my common room, I’m the only Slytherin who stayed these holidays.”

“Snake pit it is then,” Harry grinned, downing his wine before getting to his feet. “Lead the way.”

* * *

_I just invited Potter back to the common room… I just invited_ Potter _back to the_ common room.

_No matter how many times you say it it’s not going to make it any less true…_ his subconscious said slyly. _Yes, you and Potter are heading back to the common room, alone, where no one can see or interrupt you…_

“Shall I get us some more liquid courage?” Potter asked then.

“Is that even possible?” Draco replied.

“For me, yes,” Potter said with a smirk. “Although now that I think of it, I’m sure you could as well.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose until something clicked into place. “House elf?”

“Yep,” Potter said.

“Since when does Harry Potter have a house elf?” Draco asked curiously, leading Potter down the stairs into the dungeons.

“Since your father freed one and it hasn’t left my side since,” Potter grinned impishly.

“I wondered what happened to that one,” Draco mused. “Father was hysterical for a month.” He glanced at the raven-haired-tiara-wearing young man beside him. “Father never did tell me what happened, how did you do it?”

“You remember that diary your father gave to Ginny Weasley?”

“Yes.”

“I put one of my socks in there before giving it back to him. He of course handed it to Dobby so technically your father gave him clothes.”

“That’s quite… ingenious.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Malfoy.”

Draco laughed. “Granger probably rubbed off on you.”

“I can’t be brilliant on my own?”

“I don’t know you well enough to answer that.”

“Yet,” Potter grinned.

A brief smile tugged at Draco’s lips, lasting until they reached the Slytherin entrance. Without hesitating, the blond spoke the password freely and the wall scraped aside.

“Huh, nothing’s changed much,” Potter said.

Draco frowned. “What are you talking about, Potter?”

“Ron and I snuck in here during second year. We were convinced that you were the Heir of Slytherin,” Potter chuckled.

“How on earth did you manage _that_?” Draco asked.

Potter smirked. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

* * *

The usual nervous butterflies that  _would_ have been circling Harry’s stomach were nowhere to be seen. Instead, he and Malfoy were both sitting on the floor in the middle of the Slytherin common room, novelty hats cast aside, fire roaring and a bottle of Firewhiskey between them.

Lounging back against the leather armchair, Harry hadn’t felt this relaxed with Malfoy since well… ever. Harry secretly wished that this new friendship was not just a one off thing. If he and Malfoy could continue to be friendly with one another, maybe then something else could happen…?

“Can I ask you something?” Harry said suddenly, lifting his gaze from his glass to stare at Malfoy.

The blond quirked an eyebrow. “I guess,” he replied casually.

Frowning faintly, Harry asked the question that had been burning on his lips since the evening started. “Why, after all these years, did you finally decide I was worth talking to?”

Malfoy shrugged. “Pansy was adamant that you weren’t as Gryffindorish as you appeared.” He smiled faintly, eyes unusually warm. “When her fondness of you exceeded that which was considered ‘normal’ I decided to see what all the fuss was about.”

 _Oh…_ Harry thought sullenly. Disappointment flared within him and he wasn’t sure why. _It’s what is expected, right…? What else would have sparked this…?_

“And your analysis?” Harry prompted.

Malfoy paused, eyeing the liquid in his glass thoughtfully. “Maybe she wasn’t completely wrong.”

Harry placed a hand over his heart. “I don’t know what to say,” he teased.

“Other than, ‘ _thank you, Malfoy, for realising I’m not a complete prat?_ ’” Malfoy smiled winningly, causing Harry’s heart to thump loudly in his chest.

“Yeah.” Harry smiled crookedly. “Something like that.” He sipped his Firewhiskey, mulling over the questions running through his head. “So does this mean we can give the entire school a heart attack when they return?”

“By no longer hating one another?” Malfoy chuckled darkly. “I am looking forward to their reactions.”

Harry observed Malfoy carefully. “Does it feel strange to you?”

“What, this?” Malfoy replied, gesturing between them.

“Yeah.”

“A little,” he admitted. “But it is to be expected.”

“My brain is still trying to keep up,” Harry smiled. “I don’t think it wants to admit that we’re actually having a friendly conversation.”

“The alcohol has no doubt helped.”

“Oh yes most definitely.” Harry laughed, eyes brightening. “I guess that goes without saying.”

“That was probably Dumbledore’s plan all along,” Malfoy smirked. “Get us both drunk enough that we forget why we hated each other in the first place.”

Harry chuckled. “In all honesty, speaking with you now has made me realise that whatever it was I hated you for… is gone.”

Malfoy blinked at him in surprise. “I am actually at a loss for words.”

“For a change,” Harry finished for him. “You might as well admit it now, Malfoy, you don’t hate me like you used to. You _might_ say you find my company _enjoyable_.”

“If you can call it that.” Malfoy smiled but didn’t deny Harry’s previous statement. “No, you’re right, I don’t hate you anymore—I don’t think I have for a long time.”

Harry smiled gently. “I know what you mean—although convincing my brain was harder than I thought.”

“Tell me about it.” Malfoy stretched his arms above his head, his soft creamy sweater rising up over his skin. Harry’s eyes flickered briefly to Malfoy’s exposed stomach, mouth becoming exceedingly dry. _The things I could do with my tongue…_

Harry tore his gaze away and ran a slightly trembling hand through his hair, praying to whichever god was listening that nothing obvious was showing. He shifted slightly, reaching for the bottle of Firewhiskey to assist his sudden influx of nerves.

 _The last thing I need right now is for Malfoy to realise exactly how much I_ don’t _hate him anymore…_ Harry thought wryly, pouring a decent amount into his glass.

“Can I—” Harry cleared his throat. “Would you like some more?”

“Sure,” Malfoy replied, reaching forward. His sweater fell back down to his trousers, hiding away the section of perfectly smooth skin. Harry sighed silently.

_I bet he has no idea what he is doing to me…_

* * *

If Draco was surprised by the sudden glimpse of arousal in Potter’s eyes he didn’t reveal it. Instead, he waited as the brunet filled his glass before settling himself back against the couch, his gaze steady on Potter’s face.

_I wonder…_

Draco shifted subtly again, allowing his sweater to rise as he raised his glass to his lips. He caught Potter’s gaze flicker once more, the bright green circles darting downwards to his exposed stomach before refocussing on the glass in his hands, fingers beginning to fiddle.

A smirk curled delicately at Draco’s lips. _Maybe Pansy was correct after all…_

“What made you stay here for Christmas, Potter?” Draco asked casually, his finger tracing the rim of his glass. Potter’s eyes followed the movement for half a second before his gaze shifted to the blond’s.

“A few reasons,” Potter replied. “But mostly because both Ron and Hermione were going away for the holidays.”

“They didn’t invite you along?” Draco frowned.

“Oh no, they did,” Potter said. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“And…?”

Potter threw him a sheepish look. “And I like peace and quiet every so often,” he admitted.

Draco smiled. “Agreed. Thus why I am here also.”

“Won’t your parents miss you?”

Draco was slightly touched by the concern in Potter’s voice. “My mother, yes. My father, however, has gone away on business so Mother has gone to visit relatives. Although I enjoy my mother’s company, I’d rather not have my cheeks pinched by over-the-top cousins and great-aunts.”

“So now you’re stuck here with me instead,” Potter grinned.

“So I am,” Draco said with a wry smile. “From what could have been a miserable experience though, has turned out to be not so bad.”

“Only because we have alcohol. When we wake up tomorrow we might realise we’ve made a horrible mistake.”

Draco chuckled. “At least I could tell Pansy I tried.” Feeling bolder than he actually was, Draco moved gracefully across the carpet, settling himself beside the slightly startled brunet and leaning back against the couch.

 _I need to know…_ Draco thought as his heart rate escalated in speed.

“Got lonely?” Potter asked with a crooked smile.

“This couch is more comfortable to lean against,” Draco lied smoothly. “My back was getting sore.”

“I’m actually shocked you’re sitting on the floor to begin with.”

“You’d be surprised,” Draco replied. “Of course, everything we believed about one another is no doubt completely wrong.”

“True,” Potter agreed.

“Perhaps that is one thing we should start with,” Draco suggested. “A question for a question?”

“Alright.” Potter nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want to start?”

Draco tapped an elegant finger against his lips, taking note that Potter’s eyes once again followed the movement. His subconscious took great amusement in pointing out the obvious, his mind filling with interesting images.

“Favourite hobby?” Draco asked, positive that he already knew the answer.

Potter pursed his lips. “Hmm, can I name more than one?”

“Quidditch doesn’t count— _everyone_ already knows that.”

Potter sniggered. “Fine. Out of all my hobbies I think drawing is my favourite.”

“You draw?” Draco asked, making sure his face revealed the appropriate amount of surprise.

“Yeah, I’m surprised Pansy didn’t tell you—she’s asked me to draw her numerous times,” Potter continued.

“I’m sure she’s mentioned it a few times but I really didn’t absorb the information,” Draco said, finishing his drink and placing the glass aside. He tilted his head, gazing at the Gryffindor curiously as he noticed the faint blush on his cheeks. “So, do you have a question for me?”

* * *

Harry tossed back the last of his drink, his mind fuzzy and body exceedingly warm. He wracked his brain for a question, interested in a few aspects of Malfoy’s life but not really knowing which one he wanted to know first.

_Oh my god he’s stretching again… I swear he’s doing that on purpose…_ Harry thought miserably. _I’m not going to last…_

“What’s your favourite food?” Harry asked, deliberately keeping his gaze steady on Malfoy’s, even as the blond moved, his body shifting closer.

_There’s no way he’s doing that on purpose… he wouldn’t want to get this close to me… Malfoy probably doesn’t even know I’m gay…_

“Chocolate,” Malfoy replied promptly. “Especially Belgian chocolate.”

“Sweet tooth, hey?”

“Massive sweet tooth.” The blond pondered his next question, keeping Harry slightly in suspense as he reached for more Firewhiskey to refill their glasses. “If you were training to be an Animagus, what animal would you prefer?”

“Ooh, that’s a good one. Probably something deceiving, like a cat. I can be cuddly one minute and stark raving mad the next.” Harry giggled to himself. “What about you?”

“Typical Gryffindor,” Malfoy smirked. “I haven’t really given it much thought to be honest.”

“Don’t want to be cliché?” Harry prompted.

“And be a snake? No, I don’t think so.” Malfoy traced patterns on his thigh with a finger, eyes distant as he considered each animal. “I’d want to be something powerful and yet elegant.”

“How about a dragon?”

Malfoy smiled. “Still cliché but I guess it sort of fits.”

“How is it cliché?” Harry frowned.

“My name means ‘dragon’,” Malfoy explained patiently. “Really, Potter, do you not know our school motto? Ever wondered why my name is in it?”

“No, sorry,” Harry grinned. “Still, being a dragon would be pretty mad.”

“To be able to fly and breathe fire… hmm this option has potential.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You were just lucky.”

“I disagree,” Harry smiled. “Come on, any more questions? You’ve been quite tame so far.”

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. “How long has it been since you realised you were gay?”

Harry spluttered in surprise. “Er—only a little while now. Did Pansy tell you?” _Well obviously… how else would he have known…? Unless Mione did…?_

Malfoy paused. “Yes, she did.” He frowned at the slightly flustered brunet. “Does it bother you that I know? It’s not something you should have to hide.”

“No it doesn’t bother me,” Harry replied, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just not used to being so open about it. I’m trying though—I don’t keep it a secret anymore.” Malfoy looked oddly satisfied at Harry’s statement and the brunet felt his nerves fading away. “Pansy also told me about you, or at least your preference.”

“She tells everyone,” Malfoy commented dryly. “Especially women.”

“Stops them from getting their hopes up,” Harry smiled easily. “She’s just protecting you.”

“If you can call it that.” Malfoy shook his head. “No it’s more of a payback thing considering this means we’re never getting married.”

“Not even to produce an heir?”

Malfoy visibly shuddered. “Ugh, no way.”

“What about your parents?”

“They will just have to be satisfied with me,” Malfoy replied bluntly.

Harry smiled at the blond. “I like that,” he said. “Does your father know you won’t be swayed?”

“He refuses to acknowledge that fact for now,” Malfoy smirked evilly. “My mother on the other hand… sometimes she’s just as bad as Pansy.” He nudged the other boy’s leg with his foot. “Come on, Potter, it’s your turn now, what do you want to know?”

_Do you fancy me…? Will you allow me to do nasty things with my tongue…? I want to know how loudly you—_

“When did _you_ realise you were gay?” Harry asked instead, despite what his lips burned to say.

“I think I always knew,” Malfoy replied with a shrug. “Of course, I tried to make it work with Pansy but when it got down to it, there was no _way_ I was ever going anyway near _there_.”

Harry sniggered. “I was the same,” he admitted. “Although I never once considered that I might like guys—I thought it was normal to feel awkward with a female. I had no one to tell me otherwise.”

“Who have you been with?” Malfoy asked.

“Just Cho Chang during fifth year,” Harry replied. “She didn’t really make it easy though—she was already upset over Cedric. We only kissed… but it didn’t feel right. Needless to say nothing ever came of it.” He bit his lip, glancing shyly at the boy next to him. “Considering our conversation has taken a personal turn, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Guess it depends how personal.”

“I’m just curious,” Harry lied, hoping that Malfoy wouldn’t realise. “About what sort of guy you go for. I mean, it’s not like you walk around holding hands with males from our grade.”

Malfoy’s gaze was slightly heated as he stared at Harry and the brunet tried as hard as he could not to fidget.

_Oh god now I’ve done it…_


	13. Chapter 13

_Do you think he’s digging for details so he knows if he has a chance or not?_ Draco’s subconscious inquired.

 _Don’t be ridiculous_ … Draco thought wryly, watching Potter carefully. _It was a simple question—don’t get ahead of yourself…_

But what was he meant to say in response? Draco had never been the type to be forward, especially with his feelings. He did not have the nerve to admit to Potter who it was he desired… not until all uncertainty had been cleared between them. His fear of being ridiculed was evidently still controlling his emotions, despite his head demanding otherwise.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer.”

Draco blinked, realising he’d been staring at Potter while his thoughts had gotten the better of him. The brunet worried his lip nervously and Draco had the sudden urge to reassure him.

“It’s alright,” the blond said calmly. “My mind is a tad overactive tonight.”

“My question was rather personal,” Potter replied, staring at his hands. “I should have been more considerate—”

“Looks don’t necessarily do it for me,” Draco interrupted. “I’d rather be interested in someone with an attractive personality than a pretty face. There is no point in dating someone attractive when I can’t stand their presence.”

Potter nodded thoughtfully, relaxing back against the couch as the tension eased out of his shoulders. “I guess not all pretty people are nice,” he half smiled, glancing at Draco.

The blond’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Was that a joke at my expense?”

“Hmm?” Potter’s eyes widened in alarm. “No! I just—I was making a statement.”

“So you _don’t_ think I’m pretty?”

“I never said that,” Potter grumbled, looking away.

Draco grinned; he was enjoying this conversation. “It’s alright, Potter, I already know I’m pretty.” He cast a sly look beside him, amused at the sight of Potter trying to fight back a blush. “Tell me,” he continued. “What possessed you to ask that question?”

“Curiosity?” Potter replied hopefully. He sighed at the disbelieving look on Draco’s face and shrugged half-heartedly. “What made you answer?”

Draco glared pointedly. “It’s rude to answer a question with a question you know.”

“I know, I’m trying to avoid my answer.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco turned to face the brunet, holding his gaze. “I answered because I wanted to. We’re trying to find out more about each other aren’t we?”

“Well, yes but we’re not exactly best friends at the moment. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d gotten offended at my question,” Potter replied carefully.

“Another thing you’ve learnt about me then,” Draco said. “I don’t always jump to irrational conclusions; in fact, I find it a complete waste of time worrying over things that might not even be true. I usually just ignore the problem until it goes away.”

_Like a certain crush on a certain Gryffindor…? That didn’t exactly go away now did it…?_

“Well that’s not really fixing the problem then is it?” Potter replied with a small smile.

“It’s a way of dealing,” Draco retorted with a sniff.

“I think there could be a better way.”

“Yes, you’re right. It’s called, ‘let Pansy handle it instead.’”

Potter laughed. “Has that ever worked?”

“Once or twice,” Draco said. “She’s more like a last resort now.”

“Sounds like Hermione.” Potter shook his head in amusement. “What is it with females lately?”

“Tell me about it,” Draco muttered. “Trying to get involved with my love life.”

“Yeah Hermione as well,” Potter replied, his gaze falling on the fire as it crackled away merrily. “You know she likes you, yeah?”

“Oh Merlin, you don’t mean…?” Draco asked, mildly alarmed.

Potter chuckled softly. “No, she likes you as a friend. Since you and her became study partners not even Ron can make any negative remarks about you.”

Draco’s hand fluttered to his chest. “Granger, my Saviour.”

“Poor Ron will be the odd one out after Christmas Holidays.”

“Oh?”

“We’re currently working out our differences aren’t we? Hopefully we won’t hate each other by the time term resumes.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting I befriend Weasley as well. I think two Gryffindors are enough for now.”

Potter grinned brightly. “Afraid of ruining your reputation, Draco?”

Draco’s heart thumped, words failing him momentarily. Potter continued on despite his hesitation, obviously unaware that he had just used the blond’s given name.

“I’m sure Pansy won’t allow that,” Draco said finally, clearing his throat. “And we’re getting off topic; you never did answer my question.”

Potter fiddled with his sleeve, keeping his eyes averted from Draco’s.

“What are you worried about, Potter?” the blond frowned.

“Truthfully?” Potter answered quietly. “I’m worried you’ll use what I’m about to say as a means to tease me.”

“And why would I do that?”

Potter shrugged. “Because it’s you,” he said honestly. “I find myself unable to grasp that this is even happening let alone confessing secrets to you of all people.”

“I take mild offense to that,” Draco sniffed. “I’m not going to tell anyone your secret, Potter, of that you can be sure.”

“Can I though?” Potter wrinkled his nose.

“Yes,” Draco said. “If we’re serious about this new friendship then trust needs to be made.”

“I guess.”

It was obvious Potter was still reluctant to reveal whatever it was he was hiding. Draco, however, was prepared to see if this friendship would work and that meant sharing something of his own.

“Tell you what,” Draco began, catching Potter’s gaze. “You tell me your secret and I will tell you one of mine.”

“How do I know if your secret is as good as mine?” Potter asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Trust me, Potter,” Draco said seriously. “My secret is worth it.”

 

* * *

 

Harry was nervous but determined.

He wanted to tell Malfoy, he really did. The threat of his secret being exposed, however, was still immensely worrying to the brunet, which was the only reason why he had not blurted it out thus far. The prospect of Malfoy sharing a secret of his own though was tempting.

 _He’s right… trust must be made…_ Harry thought, gathering his courage.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m bound to spill the beans anyway.”

Malfoy waited patiently, glancing at the half empty bottle of Firewhiskey. “Will more alcohol help?” he offered with a smile.

“No I’m bold enough as it is,” Harry replied wryly. “Why did we even consider the plan of us plus alcohol being a good idea?”

Malfoy laughed softly. “Because it’s more fun this way.”

Harry offered a nervous smile. _Okay… here we go…_ “I like you,” he said bluntly.

Malfoy’s eyebrows rose. “Yes I thought we both agreed we didn’t hate each other anymore.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, I didn’t mean—” He sighed in frustration. “I find you attractive, Malfoy. Physically, emotionally, _whatever_. I think I have for a while now.”

Malfoy was staring at him, his silver eyes so intense that Harry felt babbling words on the edge of his lips, ready to explain.

“You’re probably freaking out now,” Harry continued in a hurried breath, “but don’t. It doesn’t have to mean anything—I just wanted you to know. If this, whatever this is, between us is going to work you have the right to know how I feel because, well, you know, just in case...” His heart was beating frantically fast as he held Malfoy’s gaze.

The elegant blond carefully brushed down his sweater. “First of all, Potter,” Malfoy began smoothly, “Malfoys do not ‘freak out’. Secondly, and I will be honest, I was not entirely prepared for your confession despite how many times Pansy’s told me otherwise.”

Harry frowned. “What has Pansy been telling you?” he asked suspiciously.

“Please, Potter,” Malfoy smirked. “You should know as much as I do how much Pansy is obsessed with seeing us together. She had herself convinced that you did in fact find me appealing—needless to say she was right.”

Harry bit his lip. “You’re taking this better than I thought.”

Malfoy smiled. “Would you prefer me to ‘freak out’?”

“No—no this is good,” Harry grinned awkwardly.

“The Boy Who Lived just admitted that he finds me attractive—what’s not to like?”

“The fact that the idea is completely mental?”

“Somewhat I suppose.” Malfoy quirked his head and smiled gently at the relieved looking brunet. “I guess this means I owe you a secret.”

“I bet it’s not as good as mine,” Harry challenged.

“I beg to differ,” Malfoy responded, moving swiftly. His lips descended on Harry’s and the stunned Gryffindor froze, hands coming up to Malfoy’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Harry half gasped.

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. “Really, Potter? I would have thought even _you_ knew what kissing was.”

“Y-Yeah I know, I mean—um—why?”

“Shut up, Potter, you’re ruining the mood.”

All thought ceased in Harry’s mind once Malfoy’s lips caressed his own, his eyes fluttering shut. Trembling hands came to rest on the demanding blond as Malfoy tugged Harry into his lap, the brunet moving his legs to straddle the Slytherin.

  _I guess this means the feeling’s mutual…_ Harry thought contently, enjoying the way Malfoy shifted beneath him.

 

* * *

 

_Congratulations, you are now kissing the object of your desires…_

_Shut it_ … Draco replied, his fingertips brushing against the curling hair on Potter’s neck. Although his subconscious seemed pretty damn smug about that fact that yes he, Draco Malfoy, was kissing Harry Potter of all people, the blond was still coming to terms with the fact that Potter actually liked him.

_So Pansy was right… good for me…_

A shiver coursed through him as Potter moved in his lap, shuffling closer and causing certain parts of Draco to respond in a rather appetising manner.

 _You know it could just be the alcohol making Potter respond like this…_ His subconscious voiced.

 _Be quiet!_ Draco demanded.

_I’m just warning you to be careful… you still don’t know each other very well…_

_If Potter keeps this up I’ll soon know him_ extremely _well…_ Draco thought in reply.

Only when breathing became an issue did the two young men slowly pull apart. Hearts were beating erratically, eyes dark with glittering arousal as they stared at each other.

“I’ve wanted to do that all evening,” Draco murmured, eyes falling on Potter’s slightly swollen lips.

“Hmm,” Potter agreed blissfully, quite content as he remained in Draco’s lap. He blinked slightly dazed eyes, a smirk curling at his mouth. “Well maybe not _all_ evening, I was still trying to work out whether or not you were still a prat.”

Draco’s face soured. “You weren’t exactly a basket of pleasantries yourself.”

Potter grinned but, Draco was happy to note, did not make an effort to remove himself from his proximity.

“I guess we should figure out what this is exactly,” the brunet said then, waving a hand between them.

“What do you want it to be?” Draco asked casually, keeping all self-doubt out of his tone.

Potter gazed shyly at the blond. “I’m not sure,” he said truthfully. “You didn’t just—um—do this because of what I told you?”

Draco frowned. “Potter, I may be a lot of things but being a tease is not one of them,” he said. “Me kissing you was simply my way of revealing that I was attracted to you also.”

“Really?” Potter asked hopefully.

“Really,” Draco repeated, staring at the Gryffindor intently. “Now we’ll either wake up tomorrow regretting what we did or we won’t. It’s as simple as that.”

Potter nodded. “I guess I can live with that for now.”

“Good,” Draco said bluntly, his gaze drifting back down to Potter’s mouth, “because I wasn’t finished.”

 

* * *

 

The room was dim, dying embers in the fireplace the only source of light. Two figures lay breathlessly on the floor, their clothes askew and hair extremely mussed.

“Considering how much we disliked one another only a few hours beforehand, this has certainly taken a much more interesting turn,” Malfoy mused, gaze on the ceiling above them.

They were barely touching and yet Harry still felt an energising shock whenever their hands brushed.

“Funny how things turn out,” he replied, turning his head. “I for one do not regret this at all.” He caught a gentle smile as it appeared of Malfoy’s face.

“So far it has been quite pleasurable,” the blond agreed. “How long do you think until we get sick of each other?”

He’d meant it as a joke, Harry was pretty sure, yet the brunet could not stop the small flash of doubt that appeared.

“If you do get sick of me feel free to just say so,” he half smiled, moving his gaze back to the ceiling.

Beside him, Malfoy lifted himself up onto his elbows. “And give up the most fun I’ve had in weeks? You’ve got to be joking. Listen, Potter, I didn’t spend half of last term debating whether or not I liked you just so we could have a fling and be done with it.”

Harry’s eyes shot back to Malfoy’s face. “Really? That long?”

Malfoy looked momentarily unsettled before his face returned to its placid generic mask. “I was in denial for a lot longer,” he admitted calmly.

Harry sighed gently. “Yeah, me too.”

The blond stretched languidly against the carpet. “Why don’t we see where this takes us?” Malfoy continued, folding his hands beneath his head. “We have at least a week of privacy; we should use it before our snoops return.”

A dark smile curled at Harry’s lips. “Hermione’s going to murder me if I don’t tell her.”

“I’m sure Pansy will as well,” Malfoy replied.

“It’ll be good for them,” Harry said, “being kept out of the loop for a change.” The room was spinning sluggishly above him, the effects of the alcohol still as prominent as ever. _I wonder how this will look in the morning…?_ He wondered. Fumbling for his wand, Harry stifled a yawn as he flicked it once, the time appearing in glowing green numbers above his head.

 _Is it really that late…? God, how long did Malfoy and I…?_ Harry bit his lip, cheeks reddening.

“Time certainly flies when you’re making out with the Boy Who Lived,” Malfoy commented in amusement.

“Apparently,” Harry agreed, turning on his side to stare at the blond Slytherin. Despite the urge to remain with Malfoy in the Slytherin common room, Harry knew it was time to leave. “I should go.”

“Same time tomorrow?” Malfoy smirked, staring at Harry leeringly.                                                        

Harry’s body flushed with heat. “Have anything planned during the day?” he asked instead, sitting up.

Malfoy shrugged, settling himself back against the couch as Harry got to his feet, straightening his dishevelled shirt. “Not particularly.”

“So I’ll see you around?”

Malfoy smiled winningly. “You may.”

Something fluttered in Harry’s chest and the words that he had originally wanted to say flew from his head. “I’ll—um—okay.” He turned away awkwardly, unaware that the blond’s gaze followed him until he’d left the common room.

The corridor was eerily silent and absolutely freezing. The giddy smile on Harry’s face however, could not be dampened as he made his way back through the corridors happier than he’d been since the school year started.

_Me and Malfoy…_

Harry’s smile widened.

_Ron’s going to pass out when I tell him…_


	14. Chapter 14

_~*Hermione*~ says:_ _How are your holidays going?_

_Seeker4Life says: Yeah alright. Quiet. How about you? How’s France this time round?_

_~*Hermione*~ says: Much more exciting than I anticipated. After all once you’ve seen a place you’ve seen it all, right? Imagine my shock when my parents surprised me with a six day cruise!_

_Seeker4life: That’s amazing Hermione! I’ll admit I’m a little jealous._

_~*Hermione*~ says: Have you heard much from Ronald?_

_Seeker4life: No but it_ has _only been two days Mione. I’m sure he’s enjoying himself._

_~*Hermione*~ says: You should have gone with him, Harry. If not him then with me._

_Seeker4life: I really am fine Hermione I promise. These holidays have so far been enjoyable._

 

 _Enjoyable is an understatement…_ Harry thought wickedly, eyeing his monitor with a smile. Just the thought of what he and Malfoy had done, or even, what they might end up _doing_ was enough to send the excitement in Harry’s stomach into a flurry.

 

_~*Hermione*~ says: What have you been up too? I can’t imagine homework being enjoyable._

 

Harry hesitated.

 

_Seeker4life says: Exploring the castle, helping Hagrid and being lazy… you know the drill…_

_~*Hermione*~ says: Fortunately I do not._

 

Harry rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face.

 

_Seeker4life says: How are you even on the net? Does the ship have access?_

_~*Hermione*~ says: Yes, available in every room. Very convenient._

_Seeker4life says: I’ll say. How would you ever survive without Tumblr?_

_~*Hermione*~ says: Thankfully that option never arose as I am currently scrolling down my dashboard. I haven’t seen any drawings from you for a while—you’re still drawing aren’t you?_

_Seeker4life: Of course I am… I just—_

_~*Hermione*~ says: You’re still drawing Malfoy, aren’t you?_

 

“More like snogging him…” Harry commented.

 

_Seeker4Life says: Well no actually I’ve been a bit preoccupied. Besides, my inspiration has gone missing._

_~*Hermione*~ says: Malfoy’s gone missing?_

_Seeker4Life says: -_-’ no, you guys._

_~*Hermione*~ says: You’re such a sap._

_Seeker4Life says: Don’t I know it. I’ve got to go now Mione, I’ll talk to you later?_

_~*Hermione*~ says: Of course. Keep out of trouble!_

_Seeker4Life says: I always do._

 

Harry sat back against his pillows as he signed out of MSN. Although he enjoyed talking with Hermione, Harry knew if he spent any more time on chat with her he’d end up spilling everything. Already his lips burned with hidden secrets; his fingers itching to retell _exactly_ what happened between Malfoy and himself. What had occurred between them last night was most definitely still on Harry’s mind. Did he regret it?

Not at all.

Even thinking of the previous evening made Harry’s stomach flutter; made his skin tingle. His eagerness to see the Slytherin was overpowering but he’d managed to restrain himself thus far, knowing he’d most likely frighten Malfoy away with his Gryffindorish nature.

Harry snorted. _Gryffindorish nature indeed… Malfoy’s lucky he made the first move last night… there was no way I would have had the courage…_

He checked his watch—it was ten thirty. He’d slept through breakfast, being too tired to get himself out of bed. Instead he’d lounged on his laptop, gathering his courage to face the day and a certain Slytherin.

Harry wasn’t even sure if he should organise an activity or if he’d be better to wing it. Despite their conversation last night, Harry still didn’t know the blond all that well—maybe it’d be better for them to continue their talk? Find out more about one another? Or was the mystery of not knowing more enticing?

Harry sighed and rolled onto his stomach, eyes falling on the frosty window. Snowflakes fell elegantly outside, undisturbed and peaceful. As Harry watched them, a soft breeze picked up the flakes and tossed them about in a whirl of excitement much to the brunet’s enjoyment. Harry had always enjoyed winter, particularly the beauty snow could bring.

 _I think I might go for a walk…_ Harry thought as he stretched languidly.

He dressed warmly, knowing Hermione would be proud to see just how many layers he was packing on. He pocketed his wand, ruffled his hair and left his room, humming Christmas carols to himself as he made his way through the castle. Although deserted, the atmosphere remained pleasant and warm, with the corridors lined with holly, baubles, and tinsel. The tinkle of faeries laughter followed Harry as he descended the staircase into the Entrance Hall, their cheeky tiny faces peering at him through the various clumps of green bush.

Spying the large doors that lead outside, Harry switched Christmas carols, digging his hands into his pockets as he nudged the door closed behind him with his foot. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he sauntered towards the stairs, eyes scanning the white mass before him.

 _I wonder what happens to the giant squid when the lake freezes…?_ Harry mused, lips beginning to tingle from _God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs_. He was about to make his way down the stairs when an amused voice spoke behind him.

“Hmm artist _and_ a singer, what can’t the Boy-Who-Lived do?”

Harry paused, a smile tugging at his lips. “Technically, I was humming,” he said, turning around.

Malfoy was curled up elegantly in an alcove, a mug of something warm held in his hands. His blue eyes were surprisingly warm as he watched Harry, his head tilted against a pillar.

“Aren’t you cold?” Harry asked, moving closer.

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. “Really, Potter, I thought you were a wizard?”

Harry’s cheeks burned and he fought the urge to fidget. “I forget sometimes.”

“Forget that you’re a wizard?”

“No!” Harry said hurriedly, frowning at the blond. “I meant I forget that magic can be used for the simplest things.”

“Is that why you’re wearing thirty layers of clothing?” Malfoy smirked, gaze raking over Harry’s form.

Harry rolled his eyes indignantly, wondering why he was so nervous. “I’m not wearing _that_ many layers and you know it.”

Malfoy’s smirk relaxed into a smile. “I’m just teasing, Potter, old habits die hard.”

“Apparently,” Harry sulked, leaning at the wall. “Why are you out here anyway?”

The Slytherin shrugged. “It’s peaceful.” Malfoy took a sip of his drink. “What brings _you_ out here?”

“I was going to go for a walk,” Harry replied, eyes tracking falling snowflakes. He turned his gaze back to the blond. “Would you like to join me?”

Malfoy’s smile widened. “Sure.” He stood gracefully, mug held tightly in his hands. “Any particular direction you were planning?”

Harry’s gaze swept over the lake, a cheeky grin beginning to brighten his face. “Ever been ice skating, Malfoy?”

“Of course.” The blond frowned curiously at the Gryffindor. “You want to go ice skating? Seriously?”

“Sure why not?” Harry shrugged. “I understand if you don’t want to though… it must be hard trying to compete with the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you attempting to tease me in the hope that I will comply?”

Harry smirked. “Is it working?”

The blond sniffed and lifted his chin. “Maybe,” he said, indignantly.

 “Shall we?” Harry grinned, gesturing across the snowy field.

“In a moment,” Malfoy replied, placing his mug down in the alcove. “Remind me to get that on our way back in.”

“I’ll try,” Harry said. “But my memory is pretty shocking.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Malfoy commented, sliding a glance towards the outraged brunet.

“You weren’t meant to agree!”

Malfoy chuckled. “Man up, Potter, otherwise you’ll never keep up with my humour.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Harry fell into step with the smirking Slytherin. “I’ll take that as a hint to never take you seriously every again.”

Malfoy snorted. “I would prefer to not be placed in the same category as Pansy.”

Harry smiled. “She really does tell you everything, doesn’t she?”

“Of course she does.” Malfoy glanced at Harry in surprise. “Don’t you tell your posse everything as well?”

“I didn’t at first,” Harry replied honestly, watching his boots stomp through the snow. “I only told them that I was gay this year.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why did you wait until now to tell them?” Malfoy asked with a frown.

“Insecurities I guess,” Harry said uncertainly, running a hand through his hair to dislodge the snowflakes that had fallen. “You can know someone for your entire life and still not be sure with how they would react.”

“Be that the case, they were obviously never a good friend to begin with,” Malfoy said a-matter-of-factly. “I’ve never understood the ludicrous quarrels between supposed friends over trivial matters.”

“Not everyone can be as understanding,” Harry replied. “Sometimes people need time.”

Malfoy scoffed. “Regardless of the reason, if people are too ignorant of others’ feelings—”

“It’s called being human, Malfoy,” Harry replied, raising his eyebrows. “Everyone is brought up differently. Do you want to know the real reason why I was afraid of coming out? My relatives.”

Malfoy paused, stopping mid-stride to stared at the brunet. “Your relatives?”

Avoiding eye contact, Harry nodded solemnly. “My relatives have very straight forward beliefs. If anything opposed them, then that person and their belief is wrong. My uncle can be very—persuading—when it comes to enforcing his opinion and when you’ve spent your entire life being told what is right and what is wrong—it’s all you ever know.”

Harry’s heart was beating incredibly fast. He’d never admitted anything about his relatives to anyone—let alone Draco Malfoy. Neither Ron nor Hermione were knowledgeable to the depths of his personal life and he preferred it that way.

“I’ve never thought of it like that before,” Malfoy admitted, gazing at Harry carefully. “It must have been a relief when Granger and Weasley supported you.”

“You have no idea,” Harry breathed with a smile as they continued towards the lake. “Hermione of course was outraged that I had not told her sooner.”

“And Weasley?”

“Ron wasn’t sure if I was joking or not,” Harry chuckled. “After I clarified that no, I really didn’t like girls, he asked me if I was going to start dating Neville.”

“Can I be extremely selfish and say that I’m glad you aren’t?”

“Yes you can actually,” Harry replied. “Because it was you that stopped me.”

Malfoy preened. “Naturally,” he said.

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “Why I’m attracted to you I’ll never know.”

“My intellect and good looks obviously.”

“Lord knows it couldn’t be your personality…”

“That was low, Potter.”

“You were asking for it, Malfoy.”

The two young men came to a stand-still beside the edge of the lake, the large, vast, plane of white stretching far across before them. Harry pulled out his wand and flicked it twice; testing the thickness of the ice to make sure it was strong enough to hold them.

“This is one activity I didn’t foresee when I woke up this morning,” Malfoy said casually as he pulled out his own wand to transfigure his shoes.

“Oh?” Harry inquired, doing the same to his own shoes.

“Mmm. My day was to be spent compiling ideas on how to get you in my bed.”

Harry’s cheeks flamed. “Any ideas so far?” he asked with a nervous grin.

“Not really, no,” Malfoy said airily, brushing snow from his shoulders. “Perhaps you could provide some insight?”

“I can try but I’m not making any promises,” Harry replied, hopping onto the ice smoothly. “Getting someone into one’s bed is not my forte.”

“How unfortunate,” Malfoy said, quirking an eyebrow as he watched the brunet skate in lazy circles. “You know, you continue to surprise me, Potter.”

“How so?” Harry asked, coming to a halt at the edge of the lake.

“Just by the abilities you seem to possess,” Malfoy replied, stepping out onto the ice beside the Gryffindor. “Drawing, ice skating—one might actually think you were normal.”

Harry grinned. “Because I enjoy doing regular things? I’m sorry if I’ve shattered your expectations.” He glided away from Malfoy, hands in his pockets. “I’ve never understood why people assume I’m not normal.”

“Guess that goes without saying,” Malfoy commented, following the young man. “What can you expect? Even I was told stories about you as a child; it’s hard to make a name for yourself when it’s already been made.”

Harry gazed at Malfoy thoughtfully. “I think that’s also why I’m attracted to you.”

Malfoy frowned.  “Care to elaborate?”

Harry smiled. “Because you don’t see me as anything other than who I really am.”

 

* * *

 

 _Because you don’t see me as anything other than who I really am._ ”

Draco blinked as he watched Potter’s smile widen, his green eyes sparkling mischievously as he glided across the frozen lake away from him.

It was true; Draco really didn’t see Potter as anything extremely special. He was a typical, standard teenage boy with the same angst as most others. Draco wasn’t attracted to him because of his name or anything of the sort—it had been the pure, physical attraction that drew the blond’s attention initially. Any fool could argue that Draco was only after Potter because of his name but that was nowhere near the truth. Although it pained Draco to admit it… he really did like Potter for being, well, Potter.

And that wasn’t about to change.

“Getting ahead of yourself aren’t you, Potter?” Draco smirked, catching up to the brunet. “What would you do if I really was just after your fame?”

Potter snorted. “As if you’d want to hide in my shadow,” he said bluntly.

“Damn, that’s true.”

“But you never know… it could be _me_ wanted to hide in _your_ shadow…”

“Hmm, we Malfoy’s do cast pretty large shadows. However, unfortunately for you, with both of our names so well-known neither of us would hide the other—in fact it’d just make it worse for the both of us.”

Potter nodded in agreement. “Did you want to keep our newly found whatever-this-is hidden? I really don’t care either way.”

Draco shrugged. “Perhaps, for the sake of our sanity, we should.”

Potter chuckled softly, twirling in a slow circle. “I will, of course, be telling Hermione and Ron.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Draco replied. “I’m sure Pansy would kill us both if we hid it from her.”

As the wind grew stronger, it began to carelessly toss falling snowflakes around them and Draco watched as Potter’s face light up, the brunet lifting his head to gaze at the sky.

 _He really is beautiful in his own unique way…_ Draco’s subconscious murmured.

 _Yes, I guess so…_ the blond replied silently, finding it difficult to remove his gaze from the Gryffindor.

“Do you want to go for a skate around the perimeter?” Potter asked, flashing a smile over at Draco.

“As long as there is no racing involved,” Draco replied.

“Scared you’ll lose?”

Draco smiled. “It doesn’t matter how you bait me, Potter, I will not concede.”

Potter pouted and it took all of Draco’s self-control to not give in.

“I said no, Potter,” he said, folding his arms indignantly.

With a huff, Potter dropped the puppy-dog look. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“You’re such a child.”

“Oh please, you just don’t want to put in the effort.”

“Be that as it may, I still refuse to work up a sweat. We’re on _holidays_ , Potter, that means relaxing,” Draco said with a nod.

Potter waved a hand. “You’ll never get anywhere with an attitude like that.”

Draco smirked, “I’ve done pretty well so far.” He watched as Potter’s eyes narrowed and he chuckled indulgently. “I managed to hook you in without working up a sweat didn’t I?”

“That was just good luck,” Potter replied, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, “because I like you in return. If I didn’t, you’d end up having to try harder wouldn’t you?”

“Or I would have just given up,” Draco admitted.

“Lazy Slytherin,” Potter retorted.

“Melodramatic Gryffindor,” Draco shot back.

Potter’s jaw dropped. “I am not!” he replied, outraged.

Draco chuckled. “Thank you for proving my point.”

“Yeah, well, at least I’m not a Drama Queen.”

“I’ve grown up since then,” Draco replied. “I haven’t thrown a tantrum since fifth year. Your argument is invalid.”

“My _God_ you’re frustrating.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Don’t hold your breath I’m thinking about leaving,” Potter moped.

Draco’s face relaxed into a smile. “I apologise. Would you like it if I stopped?”

“Stopped being an arse? Yes.”

“Sulking doesn’t become you, Potter,” Draco commented, eyeing the brunet whose gaze was set firmly on the ice below them. “But I’ll stop—only because I can’t stand to see a Gryffindor cry.”

“Is that so?” Potter said, flicking his hair off his face. “I’ll keep that in mind for the future hormonal episodes I might experience.”

“… Do you experience those often?” Draco asked, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

Laughing, the brunet shook his head. “Although maybe I should start considering the face you just pulled.”

“I don’t have the patience to deal with—” Draco shuddered—“ _hormones_.”

“What would you do if you were straight I wonder?”

“Marry Pansy,” Draco replied honestly. He threw a smirk at the male beside him. “I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for choosing my sexuality over her.”

Potter grinned. “Why am I not surprised? How very dare you, Draco Malfoy, leaving a poor female to fend for herself.”

“Alas, I am a despicable human being.”

“… No comment.”

The brunet’s laughter was infectious despite the scowl that crossed Draco’s face.


	15. Chapter 15

_Messages (1)_

_“You’re the only person I feel I can brag to at the moment so prepare yourself. Do you remember that guy I told you about a while ago? The one who absolutely hated my guts and I returned those feelings? Well you’re not going to believe what has just happened between us. Our school is currently on holidays and because I go to a boarding school I decided to stay. As it happens, so did he. Imagine my surprise when I went down to dinner a couple of nights ago to find him as pleasant as I have ever seen him—especially to me! The next thing I know (with the help of some alcohol of course) we’re making out in his common room. Turns out he’s been struggling with an attraction towards me as well. I’m still trying to convince myself that it actually happened!”_

_Well what do you know_ … Draco thought, re-reading the message from Lightning-Shaped-Scars. _Although it seems obvious now that it_ was _me Potter was talking about, having him confess it is even better…_

 _Do you think it’s time you told him that this Tumblr is yours?_ His subconscious voiced innocently.

“Not yet,” Draco said aloud, moving his cursor to the reply icon. “There’s no reason to.”

_Liar… you’re just scared that Potter will freak out…_

“Yeah that as well,” Draco muttered, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard.

 

“ _How about that? Well good for you; let me know how you guys get along. I hope for your sake that it goes well for you._ ”

 

 _You know… this would be an excellent way to discover Potter’s true feelings for you…_ Draco’s subconscious said smugly.

“Other than lust you mean,” Draco snorted. “There’s nothing else Potter would be feeling.” _Still…_ he thought, eyeing his reply.

“No,” he declared, “not yet. I’d rather not ruin it for either of us.” He glanced at the time, a smile curling at his lips as he realised Potter would be arriving in ten minutes.

Shutting down, Draco began reorganising his room, making sure there was nothing Potter would see that could potentially ruin their fun. He smiled to himself as he locked and warded numerous drawers. Potter thought he was coming so they could talk some more; the poor naïve Gryffindor most likely had no idea that Draco wanted to jump him as soon as he walked through the door.

“I’m tired of being tame,” Draco murmured, flicking his wand. His school robes instantly jumped to attention, straightening and hanging themselves up in his wardrobe. “And I’m sure Potter is just waiting for someone knowledgeable to teach him a thing or two.”

 _I hope you’re not talking about yourself…_ his subconscious snickered.

“I must be the only person alive whose brain hates themselves,” Draco muttered wryly. “At the very least, the only _sane_ person.”

_You just keep telling yourself that…_

 

* * *

 

For the twelfth time in two minutes, Harry checked his watch. He sighed aloud and turned around, pacing across his room.

Was he nervous?

Yes. Yes he was.

He knew there was no reason to be, Malfoy had just invited him over so they could talk some more—right?

Harry laughed wryly. _Not bloody likely…_ he thought. _Considering he’s invited me to his bedroom…_

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach and for the thirteenth time, Harry’s gaze flickered to his watch.

“Ah screw it,” he muttered. “I’m going.”

His hand faltered only slightly as he reached for the doorknob but he pushed forward, leaving his room and making his way down the stairs.

 _Don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous_ … This mantra repeated itself in Harry’s head as he exited the portrait hole. _Malfoy will probably make fun of you for it…_

Exhaling a large sigh, Harry shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “This is what you want,” he murmured to himself as his gaze swept over the familiar sights of the castle corridor. “Don’t fuck it up.”

Before long Harry was entering the dungeons, the cold air causing him to shiver. Unlike the rest of the castle, the only items offering any heat were the torches spaced equally along the corridors. Harry almost felt sorry for Malfoy and the other Slytherins until he recalled that unlike him, they probably remembered to use warming charms.

“Malfoy really must think I’m an idiot,” Harry snorted, coming to a halt outside the Slytherin’s secret entrance. With only a few moments of further hesitation, he mumbled the password and entered. The warmth that greeted him was a welcome change and he relished in the heat the crackling fire emitted.

It was slightly eerie for Harry to be standing alone in another house’s common room but considering his nerves at the present time, he was tempted to remain down there regardless.

“Perhaps it’s time to see just how compatible Malfoy and I really are,” Harry said softly, starting over to the male staircase.

Thanks to Malfoy’s instructions, Harry had no problem finding the Slytherin’s bedroom door but as he lifted his hand to knock he paused.

_Just be honest with him… there’s no point making an idiot out of yourself…_

Harry nodded determinedly and knocked.

 

* * *

 

Draco was just sliding his laptop underneath his bed when the knock sounded. He glanced over at his door and smirked.

“Right on time,” he murmured, straightening and heading over to answer it. He swung the door opened wide. “Welcome, Potter, to my humble abode.”

Potter quirked an eyebrow. “Humble?” the brunet questioned.

“What more do you want?” Draco replied snidely, standing aside to allow the Gryffindor in. Potter brushed passed, his eyes scanning the room appreciatively.

“So tell me, why are Slytherins special enough to get their own rooms?” Potter asked, turning to look at Draco.

The blond snorted elegantly as he closed the door. “Because we don’t share,” he said simply. “Unlike lions we do not sleep together in a den.”

“Go figure,” Potter coughed. “Lucky for me being Head Boy means I get my own room.” He grinned brightly and it took all of Draco’s will power not to jump him right then and there.

“Hmm, I’d heard the rumour,” Draco said, stepping into the middle of the room.

“So… what is it you want to talk about?” Potter asked innocently, tilting his head to the side.

The blond laughed. “Don’t tell me you actually believed that,” he smiled, stalking over to where Potter stood.

The Gryffindor shuffled nervously and unconsciously stepped away from the blond. “Well I’m a Gryffindor—I tend to believe what I’m… told,” he finished lamely.

“Liar,” Draco smirked, watching Potter take another step back.

The brunet smiled sheepishly; Draco’s smirk grew.

“And yet you came anyway,” the blond continued.

“I don’t like to stand people up?” Potter started in surprise as he realised his back was now pressed against the wall. With no room to escape, Draco made his move. He stood in front of the dark haired beauty, placing his hands on either side of Potter’s head. He stared down at Potter whose eyes had shifted to his. They were bright with nerves, embarrassment and something else that made Draco shiver.

“Do you do this with all of your guests?” Potter asked timidly.

Draco chuckled. “Only the ones that I have a particular interest in,” he replied.

“Oh?”

“Stop stalling, Potter.”

Potter swallowed nervously. “Sorry, I just—I’m not very…”

“Very what?”

“Good at this,” Potter admitted with a sigh.

“Haven’t had much practice?”

“I—um— _have_ been with someone before but I—uh—it didn’t go so well…” Potter finished with a mumble.

“Didn’t go so well?” Draco questioned, his gaze falling to Potter’s lips. “It was Chang, wasn’t it?”

Potter nodded meekly.

“Well there’s your problem, Potter, you were with a _girl_ ,” Draco interjected with a grin. “If I recall correctly we were doing fan-bloody-tastic the other evening.”

“Yeah but I was _drunk_ …”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t want this?”

“No! I do but—”

“Then allow me to take the lead.”

As Draco’s lips descended on Potter’s, his right knee worked its way in between the Gryffindor’s legs, pinning Potter completely to the wall. Whatever Potter had been about to say died on his lips as Draco consumed him, leaving no room to complain.

Draco lowered one of his hands to Potter’s jaw, feeling the muscles contracting as the brunet gave in to his advances. He tightened his grip only slightly, tilting Potter’s head to allow better access. Potter complied willingly enough, his body leaning unconsciously into Draco’s as the kiss deepened.

 

* * *

 

Malfoy’s hands were moving, his fingers gliding all over Harry’s exposed skin. Malfoy’s breath was hot and yet it chilled Harry, sending shivers coursing down his spine and spreading to his fingertips. The brunet could barely gasp a breath each time the Slytherin’s lips brushed against the spot just below his ear.

And it was just fine.

Somehow they had managed to get on Malfoy’s bed where the blond had shown immense skill at removing Harry’s jacket and shirt in a short amount of time. Afterwards, Malfoy had done nothing but devour Harry, planting kisses down his neck and torso with hands moving; _always moving._

The Gryffindor’s mind was a whirl, being unable to form coherent words other than “ _Yes_ ,” “Fuck,” and “Oh god, right _there_.”

Panting, Malfoy paused above Harry to gaze down at him. “Do you have any objections before we take this further?” the blond asked, cheeks flushed.

“O-Objections?” Harry frowned.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and leant close, his mouth a mere inch from Harry’s ear. “How far are you willing to go, Potter?” he hissed, nipping at Harry’s earlobe.

“ _Oh_ , I—uh.” Harry swallowed.

“How far _have_ you gone?” Malfoy asked as he sat back, applying a delicious pressure against Harry’s already excited crotch.

The Gryffindor’s cheeks went red and he said nothing. Malfoy smirked.

“Even better,” the blond chuckled, wriggling his hips teasingly. Harry’s eyes rolled back. “Don’t worry, Potter, I don’t believe in fucking on the first date.”

“But this isn’t our first—”

“Shut up, Potter,” Malfoy interrupted, wriggling his hips again. “I _do_ believe, however, in indulging just enough that it makes you come crawling back for more.”

As he spoke, Malfoy began to slide down the length of Harry’s figure. His fingers skilfully unbuttoned Harry’s jeans and slid the material down his legs. Harry thought he heard Malfoy make a small noise of surprise but at that moment one of the Slytherin’s hands gripped him firmly through his boxers and his mind went to mush.

 

* * *

 

_Fuck me… who knew The Boy-Who-Lived was so well hung…?_

Draco’s mouth practically watered at the sight of Potter’s straining length which was masked by a pair of red ( _typical Gryffindor_ ) boxer shorts. He was sure he made a noise but right at that moment Draco found that he really did not care. For how long had Draco dreamt of this? For how long had Draco woken in a sweat from visions of such intensity that they had seemed real?

Well this _was_ real and Merlin knew Draco wasn’t going to muck around relishing in memories. He gripped Potter’s length firmly, groaning under his breath at how wonderful it felt.

“You’ve certainly been blessed haven’t you, Potter?” Draco said.

“Jealous?” Potter sniggered.

Draco coughed. “Of course not,” he replied, slightly outraged. “Do you think I’d be as cocky and I am with a tiny appendage?”

“Not compensating?”

“I’m going to make you eat those words, Potter.”

Potter chuckled. “I look forward to it.”

_Hmm… so the lion knows how to play…_

“I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Potter,” Draco practically purred, grazing his lips against the young man’s hipbone.

Potter hummed in agreement. “Are you going to remove some clothing any time soon?”

Draco quirked an eyebrow and gazed up the length of Potter’s body. Cheeky green eyes stared back and Draco couldn’t help the grin that spread across his lips.

“My, my, Potter…”

“What can I say? You bring out the wicked side in me,” the brunet replied.

“Oh yes we are _definitely_ going to get along just fine.”


	16. Chapter 16

_That’s not my ceiling…_ was Harry’s first thought as he woke. His head turned sharply to the side; eyes falling on a sleeping Malfoy as memories came flooding back.

A grin broke out across the Gryffindor’s face.

 _I could get used to this…_ he thought contently. _That is, of course, if Malfoy doesn’t get sick of me…_

His gaze tracked over the blond’s figure, his grin widening. Malfoy had proven time and time again that his tongue was exceedingly talented, bringing Harry to the brink over and over. His only concern was that he hoped he had given Malfoy just as much pleasure as the Slytherin had given him—needless to say Harry knew he had some catching up to do in the bedroom skills department.

Sliding his vision downwards, Harry indulged in the sight of Malfoy’s smooth pale skin. From the waist down, Malfoy was covered in his duvet but Harry could still recall _exactly_ how Malfoy looked down there.

He chuckled softly; Malfoy hadn’t been joking when he’d said he would make Harry eat his words.

_Happy Christmas to me…_

Smiling, Harry rolled onto his side, reaching for his wand which sat on one of Malfoy’s elegant bedside tables. _Everything_ in the Slytherin’s room practically screamed ‘Malfoy’; all class, no-nonsense, aesthetically pleasing furniture upon which there was no clutter, no cushion out of place, and certainly no scruff marks.

Once his wand was in his hand, Harry flicked it once, eyeing the glowing numbers with little surprise. Both he and Malfoy had missed lunch—go figure. Reaching down, Harry fumbled for his jeans and wondered where on earth Malfoy had discarded his boxers.

 _Ugh, whatever_ , _I can grab them next time_ … Harry thought, hoping that there would in fact _be_ a next time. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and slid on his jeans, eyes already scanning for his shirt.

“Leaving so soon, Potter?”

Malfoy’s sleep induced voice caressed over Harry’s ears and the brunet glanced over his shoulder, catching the Slytherin’s drowsy stare.

“Miss me already?” Harry said in reply.

“More like I’m not completely done with you,” the blond said.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Malfoy blinked at him sleepily. “Why do you need reassurance every time I tell you something? Still don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that,” Harry said, turning so he was facing the Slytherin. “I just—I guess I still wonder why it is you want _me_ of all people.”

“What’s not to want?” Malfoy smirked, eyes scanning up and down Harry’s figure. “I am _attracted_ to you, Potter, therefore what I want, I have.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yes,” Malfoy said, sliding across the mattress to where Harry sat. He gripped the Gryffindor’s wrist and tugged, the brunet falling across his lap.

Harry stared down at Malfoy incredulously, making note of the desire obvious in his eyes. Harry felt his chest tighten—Malfoy really was, well _beautiful_ in a handsome sort of way. Standing next to him, Harry could imagine exactly how inadequate people must feel. And, by god, if Malfoy had been perfect before, he was a freaking Adonis now with his hair mussed and cheeks flushed.

“Although I do enjoy being stared at lustfully, you _could_ put those lips of yours to some use,” Malfoy commented, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side.

“You’re insatiable,” Harry chuckled, leaning down to capture Malfoy’s mouth. Warm lips met his and Harry fell right back into the comfortable rhythm the two of them had found.

Malfoy’s hands ran themselves down Harry’s back, sending enticing shivers running up the brunet’s spine.

“Mmm, you need to remove these,” Malfoy purred, fingers fiddling with the button of Harry’s jeans.

Harry did so, the denim hitting the floor within half a second. He returned to Malfoy’s mouth instantly, delighting in the way the blond undulated beneath him. It didn’t take long before both young men were hard and their hearts were thundering in their chests. Harry mumbled a breathless spell and reached down, taking Malfoy’s now slick hardened length into his hand. Malfoy gasped a strangled moan, his head thrown back against the pillows. With Malfoy’s throat exposed, Harry leant down and ran his tongue along a particularly strained muscle. He followed with his teeth, satisfied with the red marks he left behind.

“Oh… _gods_ ,” Malfoy groaned, chest heaving.

Blankets were strewn everywhere as limbs flailed carelessly, pillows were knocked clear off the mattress. Recapturing Malfoy’s mouth, Harry worked his hand in teasing strokes up and down the Slytherin’s cock. The brunet dragged his mouth away from Malfoy’s lips and trailed hot kisses down the blond’s neck before reaching Malfoy’s collarbone where Harry spent several seconds enjoying the way the male beneath him shivered.

Unable to hold himself away any longer, Harry slid down the length of Malfoy’s figure; his breath ghosting over the glistening tip of Malfoy’s impatiently waiting erection. The Slytherin’s hands shot to Harry’s head, fingers tangling in the dark locks as the Gryffindor dragged his tongue up the underside of Malfoy’s cock in languid strokes.

“P- _Potter_ —” Malfoy gasped. “ _UGH!_ You’ll be the death of me!”

Chuckling, Harry gave in to Malfoy’s desperate pleads, swallowing the head of the blond’s cock and swirling his tongue.

It didn’t take long before Malfoy was thrashing on the mattress, head thrown back as wave after wave of his released crashed over him.

Once sated, Malfoy’s limbs flopped lifelessly onto the bed, chest heaving raggedly. His eyes were closed, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. Harry watched the blond with hungry eyes, mouth practically watering at the sight of Malfoy spread so openly before him.

Barely able to lift his head, Malfoy opened one eye to gaze at Harry.

“Fuck me, Potter, you’re something else,” he groaned, allowing his head to fall back.

“And yet you waited all this time,” Harry said with a smirk, tilting his head. “You do realise we could have been doing this months ago.”

“So sue me,” Malfoy said, waving a hand impatiently. “We’re here now aren’t we?”

Smiling, Harry shook his head in amusement and crawled up beside Malfoy, planting his hands on either side of the Slytherin’s shoulders.

“Then let’s not waste time talking about it,” he murmured.

Malfoy’s eyes instantly darkened with lust, a sultry smile curling at his lips. He lifted his hands and captured the brunet’s shoulders. With a sudden burst of strength Malfoy flipped Harry onto his back, staring down at the brunet with an evil glint in his eye.

“Your turn, Potter,” he said darkly, voice husky.

 

* * *

 

The boys surfaced some three hours later, both sated and pleasantly sticky—regardless of how many cleaning charms they’d cast.

“I do believe this is shaping up to be one of my more enjoyable Christmases,” Draco said, stretching lazily.

Beside him, Potter watched as the muscles contort deliciously in the blond’s stomach, mouth practically watering in response.

“I would have to agree,” the Gryffindor said in reply, “but as much as I would love to remain here and do this with you all over again—I am _starving_. I think dinner is calling my name.”

Draco hummed in agreement. “Yes, I do believe sustenance is in order.” The blond rolled over and picked up his wand, flicking it twice. Numerous articles of clothing began flying around the room and a pile of clean clothes appeared on the chair near the bedside table.

Potter, on the other hand, grabbed the clothes he’d arrived in and tugged them on, not caring about the wrinkles. He ruffled his hair and then sat on the edge of the bed, watching the way Draco carefully went about clothing himself.

“Please tell me you’re not going to dinner as you are,” the blond commented, casting a glance at the Gryffindor who looked down at his clothes.

“Why not?” the brunet replied.

Draco rolled his eyes. _You have got to be kidding me._ “I might save your horrible sense of fashion yet.”

“Good luck,” Potter sneered.

“Is that a challenge?” Draco asked slyly, buttoning his robes carefully.

“It’s not going to involve _shopping_ is it?” Potter pulled a face. “Because me and shopping don’t mix.”

“You have got to be joking.”

“Malfoy, have you forgotten that I am a _male_? A male _Gryffindor_?”

“Blast.”

Potter smiled triumphantly.

“This doesn’t mean you win,” Draco retorted, smoothing down his clothes. “I will find a way.”

“I will contain my excitement,” Potter said tonelessly, glancing around for his shoes. He pulled out his wand and summoned them, his sneakers appearing half a second later.

Once his shoes were securely on his feet, Potter continued to wait patiently as Draco finished getting ready. Glancing in his mirror, Draco caught sight of Potter’s reflection as the brunet checked his watch.

“You say anything about how long I take I’ll hex you,” Draco said, quirking an eyebrow.

Lifting his head, Potter’s gaze found Draco’s. “I wouldn’t even _dream_ of it,” he replied innocently.

 

* * *

 

Draco stared gloomily at his homework.

He had been sorely tempted to invite Potter back to his bedroom to indulge in a little more… strenuous exercise… but he’d known there was a pile of school work that had yet to be touched since the beginning of the holidays.

Right at that present time however, Draco was finding it hard to concentrate as his mind kept wandering back to those blissful hours.

_Who knew the Golden Boy could be so… enticing…?_

“And a skilful little bugger at that,” Draco agreed.

 _You might have finally met your equal…_ his subconscious commented slyly.

“Hmmm,” Draco mumbled, gaze falling to his open laptop. _I wonder if Potter is on Tumblr…?_ He thought before shaking his head in disgust. “Ugh, one would think I’d fallen in love with the git,” he said snidely. “ _That’d_ be the day.”

Reaching over, Draco shut the lid of his computer, determined to get some of his work done.

“Thank god Severus still demands our essays to be handwritten,” he murmured. “Otherwise I’d never get anything done today.”

_Didn’t realise Potter had such an impact on you…_

“Oh, shut it,” the blond sniped, summoning a quill and some ink.

He managed to get through one entire paragraph before the urge to check Tumblr became too hard to ignore.

“Curse this addiction,” Draco grumbled, reaching for his laptop. He flipped open the lid, waited for his screen to load and was refreshing his dashboard within a minute.

 _Just five minutes…_ Draco thought.

 _Yeah right…_ his subconscious replied.

 

* * *

 

The smile on Harry’s lips refused to go away.

_Draco. Fucking. Malfoy._

Stretching across his bed, Harry rolled onto his side, finger gliding across his mouse pad. Instantly his screensaver disappeared and he refreshed his Tumblr dashboard, eyeing the new posts with an easy smile.

_Draco. Fucking. Malfoy._

The blond was certainly turning out to be nothing Harry had expected. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; Malfoy was still arrogant, self-involved and conceited… but at least he was being _nice_ to Harry now and that was more of an improvement than anything else.

Not to mention the fact that Malfoy had a _very_ talented tongue and a knack for finding certain spots that drove Harry crazy.

Harry’s smile widened; he was glad he had decided to remain behind for the holidays. Without this chance to be alone with the Slytherin, he and Harry might not have ever gotten together.

A laugh slipped past his lips as his gaze caught a particular funny text post from _Blonds-Do-It-Better_ , which already have fifty notes.

 

 **Me:** Must. Do. Homework.                  

 **Tumblr:** Don’t even joke about that.

_Five hours later…_

**Me:** Damn it.

 

“I know the feeling,” Harry murmured, glancing over at the pile of undone homework that awaited him. He’d been a _little_ disappointed when Malfoy hadn’t invited him back to his room after dinner but he’d figured that the Slytherin had as much homework as he did.

 _Can’t ruin a good thing now can we…_ Harry thought wryly. _Don’t want to turn Malfoy off…_

Rolling off his bed, Harry made for the pile of homework and grabbed the first thing that lay on top. He looked down at the textbook, slightly happy to see it was Defence Against the Dark Arts.

 _Might as well start off with something relatively easy…_ Harry mused, heading back to his bed. Their Professor had given them the option of either writing or typing the answers to the questions given and considering how much faster and neater typing was, Harry was all for that option.

Before he opened a document, Harry refreshed his dashboard one last time. He blinked in surprise as he eyed the new notification telling him he had a question in his ask box. He clicked on the little envelope, a smile spreading across his face when he saw who it was from.

 

_Blonds-Do-It-Better asked:_

_I’m bored and sick of homework. How’s it going?_

 

Harry’s fingers where already typing a reply before he even realised what he was doing.

 

_Yeah I’m stuck with homework as well. I’d rather be elsewhere having a bit of fun but I guess sometimes school work really does have to come first—I’d rather not fail my final year. How about you? How’re you going?_

 

Returning to his dashboard, Harry scrolled through some of his posts, passing the time until he could return to the top and refresh. After a minute or so, Harry reloaded the page, happy when the notification for his ask box returned.

 

_Blonds-Do-It-Better asked:_

_Pretty damn fantastic actually, excluding the perilous amount of work I still have to do. How’s everything going with that male friend of yours? Is he the reason behind why you’d rather be elsewhere?_

 

Memories flashed through Harry’s mind and a sultry smile curled at his lips.

 

_Seriously, before all this actually happened, I would have never have even thought that I would like this guy so much. He’s still a piece of work but I actually find all those traits about him rather attractive—it’s nice to finally be on the positive receiving end rather than having him throw insults at me left right and centre. Spending this time with him and getting to know the REAL him… it’s amazing all the things I never considered before. It’s bloody amazing that’s what it is—I actually look forward to spending time with him!_

 

“The scary thing is I really do,” Harry murmured as he clicked ‘reply privately’. “God, two months ago I still wanted to kill the bastard.”

_Funny how things can change in such a short time…_

 

* * *

 

_"Seriously, before all this actually happened, I would have never have even thought that I would like this guy so much. He’s still a piece of work but I actually find all those traits about him rather attractive—it’s nice to finally be on the positive receiving end rather than having him throw insults at me left right and centre. Spending this time with him and getting to know the REAL him… it’s amazing all the things I never considered before. It’s bloody amazing that’s what it is—I actually look forward to spending time with him!”_

 

“Who’s he calling a piece of ‘work’?” Draco griped. Despite his annoyance, a small smile lit up his face. “I guess he _does_ have a point…”

 _Really, princess…?_ His subconscious remarked.

Ignoring his own mind, Draco pondered how to respond to Potter’s latest message.

_You should tell him who you really are… he needs to know…_

Draco bit his lip.

“No,” he said. “What if he turns on me? Makes _my_ life a living hell?”

_As if Potter would stop that low…_

“How the fuck would you know?” Draco sniped. “Rather, how would _I_ know? We’ve only just started to get to know one another; I’d rather not risk making a fool of myself thank you very much.”

_Merlin help you should he find out somehow…_


	17. Chapter 17

“What do you mean you haven’t started the essay that Professor Snape assigned?” Malfoy frowned at the Gryffindor who shrugged sheepishly.

“I was going to wait until Hermione came back,” Harry admitted, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“That would only leave you two days to complete it.”

“Yeah, and?”

Malfoy stared at Harry incredulously. “Get your homework, Potter.”

“Wait—what?”

“Get your homework. Loathe that I am to admit it but you are far more capable at Potions than you let on to be and I refuse to associate with anyone who rejects their mental capabilities.”

Harry eyed the Slytherin scrutinisingly. “…is this your way of offering me help?” he asked.

Malfoy waved a hand dismissively. “Call it what you want. Go get your homework and I’ll meet you in my room.”

The blond left without another word, leaving Harry standing alone in the corridor just outside the Great Hall. The two of them had just left dinner and Harry was just thinking that he should probably head back to the Gryffindor tower to do some homework, when the Slytherin had mentioned the Potions essay to which Harry had admitted he hadn’t even started.

“Go figure,” Harry murmured, turning on his heel.

His mind was adrift for most of the walk back to the Gryffindor tower. Although homework was the last thing Harry would have imagined doing with Malfoy, the fact that the blond had offered meant more to him than anything they had done so far.

“Why didn’t we try this friendship thing ages ago?” Harry muttered, catching sight of the Fat Lady.

 

 

“Has this become a new thing for you?” Harry commented as he entered Malfoy’s room, staring pointedly at the fact that the Slytherin was once again seated on the ground.

“As much as it pains me to admit, it is more practical to be on the floor,” the blond replied, waving his hand over the textbooks and parchment that were spread neatly before him. “There is simply not enough space anywhere else.”

“Makes sense.” Harry nodded and joined Malfoy on the carpet, rearranging his own work and textbooks in a similar manner.

Picking up his textbook and flicking through it, Malfoy glanced at Harry. “Have you done _anything_ towards this essay?” he asked.

Harry snorted. “Don’t be silly,” he grinned. “When I said I was going to wait for Hermione, I meant it. Otherwise I’d probably end up studying the wrong bloody thing.”

“Why didn’t you send her an email?” Malfoy said with a frown.

Harry blinked. “Because I didn’t think of that,” he replied sheepishly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Gryffindors,” he muttered. “Page 287 is a good place to start.”

Harry grabbed and opened his textbook, _Advanced Potion-Making._ He turned to the page Malfoy suggested and was reaching for some parchment and ink, ready to take notes, when his gaze slid back over to where Malfoy sat. The blond was also reaching for some fresh parchment, his textbook opened to the same page as Harry and a small frown of concentration tugging at his brow.

Something suddenly clicked in Harry’s brain. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You haven’t started Professor Snape’s essay either,” he snorted.

Barely sparing Harry a glance, Malfoy shrugged indifferently. “And?”

“And—well, you didn’t have to mess with me before!” Harry said, outraged.

Malfoy smiled deviously. “But, Potter, you’re _fun_ to mess with. It’s my favourite hobby… aside from other things.”

Harry leaned back on his hands, his textbook lying open in his lap as uncertainty began to crawl into his mind. _Exactly how much did Malfoy like to mess with him…?_

The Slytherin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Don’t go there, Potter,” he said seriously. “I meant it as a joke. I promise you I’m not actually messing around with you in terms of our… relationship.”

Relief eased throughout Harry’s muscles. It was eerie how well Malfoy read him at times—perhaps it truly _was_ time to trust him unconditionally? Glancing down at the essay question, Harry read it for the first time.

“ _List the magical properties of each ingredient, their uses in this potion and why they’re so important_ ,” he recited. “Snape means the potion we’re currently studying doesn’t he?”

Malfoy nodded. “It’s best to begin with the method that is in our textbook.” He gestured towards the page. “Not only does it tell you exactly which ingredients you need but it gives you hints as to why they are important judged purely on the way they are added.”

“How do you mean?” Harry asked with a curiously frown.

“Certain ingredients react different depending on when they are used,” Malfoy explained patiently. “For example, if they’re added during a full moon, or if they’re added when the potion in on a complete boil or just a simmer etcetera, different properties are released.”

“Oh,” Harry replied. “Wow I didn’t realise the same ingredient could be used so many different ways.”

Malfoy pulled a face. “How have you survived Potions so far? These sorts of questions have been in previous exams.”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe Snape secretly likes me.” Malfoy snorted and Harry chuckled. “Yeah I doubt it,” he said with a grin. “Must be my ‘Potter-Luck’.”

“Otherwise known as ‘Granger’,” Malfoy muttered.

 

* * *

 

They had been working diligently for the past hour and Draco was quite impressed with how fast Potter was learning. He knew all along that the Gryffindor wasn’t entirely stupid—he just needed a nudge in the right direction. All this hard work however, was beginning to bore the blond.

_I’m bored_ … his subconscious announced. _Shall we fix that…?_

Lips quirking into a smile, Draco began to inconspicuously place aside his work, clearing a space just big enough that when he pounced on Potter he wasn’t going to wreck all their hard work.

“This isn’t homework.” Potter grinned as Draco pushed him back against the carpet.

“But you’re _far_ more interesting to do,” Draco replied, easing himself comfortably between the Gryffindor’s legs.

Interest immediately blossomed in the Gryffindor’s green eyes and he stared at the male above him with unhidden lust.

“This was your plan all along wasn’t it?” Potter snickered.

“Maybe,” Draco replied with a ghost of a smile. He leaned down, eyes on Potter’s lips. He was glad when the brunet rose up to meet him half way; the shyness which Potter had exuded the first few times was now completely gone.

They kissed languidly, unrushed, and Draco was certainly enjoying the way Potter began to swell beneath him. He moaned as Potter tore away from his mouth and began sucking on his pale neck, Draco’s fingers digging into the Gryffindor’s upper arms.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Draco gasped as Potter tilted his hips, rubbing his erection against his own. His breath shuddered, hot air gusting across Potter’s throat. “You keep this up and this is going to end a whole lot sooner than we want.”

Potter chuckled throatily, wriggling his hips purposely. “Have something in mind, did you?” he asked, enjoying the way Draco bit his lower lip.

“Mmm, to a degree,” the blond said. “Stop teasing me, Potter.”

“What was it you said? ‘ _But it’s fun to tease you’_ ,” Potter mocked.

“That was mess with, Potter, _mess_ with— _ugh,_ yes right _there_.”

Taking Draco’s earlobe between his teeth, Potter began to demonstrate the skills Draco had also been teaching him over the last week which soon had the blond barely able to gasp for breath.

 _Potter is certainly a little fiend at times, isn’t he…?_ Draco thought. _I better retake control before I lose myself completely…_

Fumbling for Potter’s wrists, Draco grabbed them tightly in each hand and pinned them above the brunet’s head. Potter’s eyes flashed and he smirked.

“Kinky,” he said.

“Just you wait,” Draco replied, lowering his face purposely towards Potter’s neck. The blond had discovered during their intimate moments that Potter had a particularly ticklish spot just above his right collar bone and Draco wasted no time in attacking that spot with his teeth and tongue.

Potter squirmed beneath the blond, his back arching and muscles clenching as Draco teased him ruthlessly. Despite his best efforts, the brunet was unable to escape the Slytherin’s attack and was left simply moaning his name in a pleading tone.

“ _Draco_ …”

The sound of his name falling from Potter’s lips sent a shock of electricity straight for the tip of Draco’s cock.

Refusing to give in, Draco kissed Potter into submission, leaving the brunet panting and cheeks flushed from exertion. With one hand still locked around Potter’s wrists securely, Draco dragged his free hand down Potter’s chest. He wasted no time in rubbing a teasing hand over the bulge in Potter’s jeans and the brunet was unable to stop himself as he bucked hard against Draco’s flippant hand.

“You’re such a _tease_ ,” Potter gasped.

The blond chuckled. “And pay-back is _such_ fun.” He leered. Draco cut off Potter’s trail of curse words with his mouth, while his hand began to fumble with the button of Potter’s jeans. Finding it difficult with just one hand, Draco pulled away just enough to look down at the Gryffindor with a glare.

“You leave your hands where they are,” he ordered. “Yes?”

Potter gazed at him suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

Draco, his hand on the bulge in Potter’s jeans, squeezed, and Potter’s eyes instantly rolled back, a moan escaping his mouth as he nodded.

“Good boy,” Draco smiled indulgently, releasing the grip he had on Potter’s wrists.

He unbuttoned the Gryffindor’s jeans without hesitation and he slid down the length of the male below him until his mouth was hovering over where Potter’s belly button was. Draco shoved Potter’s shirt up and out of the way so he was able to drag his tongue teasingly across the brunet’s skin. Potter squirmed, his breath coming out in gasps.

 _Mmm, how I love that sound…_ his subconscious murmured.

Draco silently agreed as he bit down on the Gryffindor’s hipbone, causing the male to arch his back once more. Gazing down the length of the brunet, Draco felt his mouth practically water from the sight of Potter at his mercy. Deciding he had made the Gryffindor wait long enough, Draco dragged both Potter’s jeans and his boxers downwards, freeing Potter’s hardened length which Draco eyed hungrily.

 _Mine…_ he thought, allowing his tongue to slide lazily around the base of Potter’s cock.

 _“Uh… Draco…_ ” The Gryffindor gasped weakly, the overload of sensations becoming too much. His hands had found one of the legs of Draco’s bed and were gripping it for dear life as the Slytherin demonstrated just how wonderfully his tongue was talented.

Over and over again Draco brought Potter to the brink but would not allow him to finish. Draco was taking great pleasure in having so much control and was thoroughly enjoying the sounds Potter was making. The teasing had almost become too much for the brunet when Draco suddenly hummed around Potter’s arousal, effectively breaking the hold Potter had. He came with a cry, back arching for what seemed an eternity until he slumped back down against the carpet, eyes closed and mouth lax.

“Fuck… me…” Potter panted, chest heaving.

“If you insist.” Draco smirked.

Potter chuckled. “Perhaps I should have been more considerate with my word choice,” he said, throwing an arm over his eyes.

Draco observed the brunet carefully. “May I clarify something, Potter?”

“Sure,” the male replied, his breath finally catching up with him.

“You’re a virgin, yes?” Draco asked, watching as Potter nodded.

The blond quirked an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

“Would you like to change that?” he asked smoothly.

 

* * *

 

**A/N**: This next section has been repeated on purpose.  I.e., the above was from Draco's perspective and the below is now from Harry's perspective.

* * *

 

“This isn’t homework.” Harry grinned as Malfoy pushed him back against the carpet. He’d been wondering what the Slytherin had been up to just before he pounced.

“But you’re _far_ more interesting to do,” Malfoy replied, easing himself comfortably between Harry’s legs.

Interest immediately blossomed in the Gryffindor’s green eyes and he stared at the male above him with unhidden lust.

“This was your plan all along wasn’t it?” Harry snickered.

“Maybe,” Malfoy replied with a ghost of a smile.

He leaned down, eyes on Harry’s lips. With a surge of confidence, Harry rose to meet him halfway; the shyness he usually felt was completely gone.

They kissed languidly, unrushed, and Harry could feel his cock swelling in response. Malfoy moaned as Harry tore away from the Slytherin’s mouth and began sucking on his pale neck, Malfoy’s fingers digging into the Gryffindor’s upper arms.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Malfoy gasped as Harry tilted his hips, rubbing his erection against the Slytherin’s own. Malfoy’s breath shuddered, hot air gusting across Harry’s throat.

“You keep this up and this is going to end a whole lot sooner than we want,” Malfoy panted.

Harry chuckled throatily, wriggling his hips purposely. “Have something in mind, did you?” he asked, enjoying the way Malfoy bit his lower lip.

“Mmm, to a degree,” the blond replied. “Stop teasing me, Potter.”

“What was it you said? ‘ _But it’s fun to tease you’_ ,” Harry mocked.

“That was mess with, Potter, _mess_ with— _ugh,_ yes right _there_.”

Taking Malfoy’s earlobe between his teeth, Harry began to demonstrate the skills Malfoy had also been teaching him over the last week and he soon had the blond barely able to gasp for breath.

 _Not such an innocent little Gryffindor anymore am I…?_ Harry thought.

Suddenly, Harry felt Malfoy fumbling for his wrists and in a blink of an eye, Malfoy had gripped them tightly in each hand and pinned them above Harry’s head. His eyes flashed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Kinky,” he said.

“Just you wait,” Malfoy replied, lowering his face purposely towards Harry’s neck.

Harry felt a shiver run through him. The blond had discovered during their intimate moments that Harry had a particularly ticklish spot just above his right collar bone. It soon became apparently that that was exactly where Malfoy was headed.

The blond wasted no time in attacking that spot with his teeth and tongue, causing Harry to squirm beneath him, his back arching and muscles clenching as Malfoy teased him ruthlessly. Despite his best efforts, the brunet was unable to escape the Slytherin’s attack and was left simply moaning his name in a pleading tone.

“ _Draco_ …”

Refusing to give in, Malfoy kissed Harry into submission, leaving the brunet panting and cheeks flushed from exertion. With one hand still locked around Harry’s wrists securely, Harry felt Malfoy drag his free hand down his chest. Malfoy wasted no time in rubbing a teasing hand over the bulge in Harry’s jeans and the brunet was unable to stop himself as he bucked hard against Malfoy’s flippant hand.

“You’re such a _tease_ ,” Harry gasped.

The blond chuckled. “And pay-back is _such_ fun.” He leered.

Malfoy cut off Harry’s trail of curse words with his mouth, while the blond’s hand began to fumble with the button of Harry’s jeans. Harry could tell Malfoy was having some difficulty with just one had and was about to let out a bark of laughter, when the Slytherin pulled back, glaring in his direction.

“You leave your hands where they are,” he ordered. “Yes?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

Malfoy, his hand on the bulge in Harry’s jeans, squeezed, and the Gryffindor’s eyes instantly rolled back, a moan escaping his mouth as he nodded.

“Good boy,” Harry heard Malfoy say, and he could practically _hear_ the smirk the blond was no doubt harbouring as he released the grip he had on Harry’s wrists.

Harry felt Malfoy unbutton his jeans and then slide down the length of his figure. Malfoy shoved Harry’s shirt up and out of the way so he was able to drag his tongue teasingly across the brunet’s skin. Harry squirmed, his breath coming out in gasps.

Harry arched his back when Malfoy suddenly bit his hipbone, sending an array of spectacular shivers coursing through his muscles. So lost as he was in the sensation, Harry barely felt Malfoy drag both his jeans and his boxers downwards.

 _“Uh… Draco…_ ” The Gryffindor gasped weakly, as Malfoy glided his tongue around the base of his erection. His hands had found one of the legs of Malfoy’s bed and were gripping it for dear life as the Slytherin demonstrated just how wonderfully his tongue was talented.

Over and over again Malfoy brought Harry to the brink but would not allow him to finish. Harry could tell that Malfoy was taking great pleasure in having so much control. The teasing had almost become too much for the brunet when Malfoy suddenly hummed around Potter’s arousal, and the sudden vibrations effectively broke the hold Harry had. He came with a cry, back arching for what seemed an eternity until he slumped back down against the carpet, eyes closed and mouth lax.

“Fuck… me…” Harry panted, chest heaving.

“If you insist.” Malfoy smirked.

Harry chuckled. “Perhaps I should have been more considerate with my word choice,” he said, throwing an arm over his eyes.

There was a moment’s silence.

“May I clarify something, Potter?” Malfoy asked then.

“Sure,” Harry replied, his breath finally catching up with him.

“You’re a virgin, yes?” Malfoy asked and Harry nodded his response.

More silence.

“Would you like to change that?” the blond asked smoothly.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

Had he heard Malfoy correctly? Did the Slytherin _really_ want to have sex with _him?_

Harry shifted his arm away and lifted his gaze to meet the blond’s. Malfoy was watching him carefully, as if he was worried about what he had said would upset Harry. And yet, the hint of interest in the Slytherin’s eyes was hard to miss.

“Of course…” the Slytherin suddenly continued, breaking eye contact as he leant back on his hands. “I’m sure there isn’t quite enough trust between us just yet for you to let me take control over your first time.”

Harry frowned. “Hold on,” he said. “That isn’t the problem.”

Malfoy’s gaze shot back to his. “It… isn’t?”

Harry shook his head and sat up, not caring that his jeans were halfway down his legs and he was still very much exposed.

“No, your question just caught me off guard—I guess I was surprised to hear that you actually _want_ to have sex with me.”

Now it was Malfoy’s time to stare.

“You know,” the blond began slowly. “Your low self-esteem really needs to be adjusted, Potter,” he said. “You seem to lack the concept that you’re actually attractive. And not only that but you happen to be exactly what I am attracted too; it’s only natural to lust after what you find desirable.”

Harry’s cheeks reddened.

“Perhaps I should say it more often?” Malfoy continued, tilting his head to the side. “I had figured these intimate moments between us were enough to convince you.”

Harry smiled softly. “I’m afraid I take a while to catch on to things.”

Harry was slightly surprised by the lack of nasty comments. Instead, Malfoy got to his feet, his fingers beginning to unbutton his shirt as he headed towards his bed.

“Well?” the Slytherin said, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not going to bag the Boy-Who-Lived on the floor thank-you-very-much. You might like carpet imprints on your knees but I for one do not.”

A slow grin began to overtake Harry’s face. He could tell that Malfoy was attempting to relieve the nervous tension between them with his usual laidback attitude. Harry was thankful because it was working.

 

* * *

 

“Is this the time when we have the awkward who will be top and who will be bottom talk?” Draco asked and he laid his shirt over the back of a chair.

“I don’t trust myself to be a top,” Potter replied honestly, removing his top and letting it flop to the floor.

“And you trust _me?_ ”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Potter smirked as he stood and headed for the bed. “Besides, with all of my inexperience would _you_ really trust _me_ to be anywhere _near_ your arse?”

“Good point,” Draco said with a grin.

“What do you rather?” Potter asked as he sat on Draco’s bed, leaning back against the pillows.

Draco had to tear his eyes away from the Gryffindor’s tight stomach before replying. “Topping usually,” he replied. “I have bottomed only a few times. I’m not sure if I happened to be with the wrong person or whatever it was but I didn’t find it particularly enjoyable.”

“Fair enough,” the brunet replied.

“Never fear though, Potter,” Draco continued and he removed his trousers. “I will take care of you.”

And he meant it.

For the first time in Draco’s life he actually felt a wave of concern pass through him; he wanted to make sure that Potter’s first time was enjoyable. He wasn’t sure what alarmed him the most; the thought of hurting Potter, or the fact that he actually _cared_.

“Can I ask a favour?” Potter said, leaning forward.

“If it involves bondage, Harry, I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet.”

The brunet chuckled softly but shook his head. “No. No, I wanted to ask… would you mind talking me through the steps? Seeing as I’ve never done this before I don’t really have any clue as to what to expect or… or what to do.” He smiled weakly at the blond. “I’m probably not going to be very good.”

“Allow me to be the judge of that, Potter,” Draco replied with a carefree wave of his hand. He approached the brunet and pushed him back against the duvet. “You think too much,” he said, leaning down to kiss him.

Potter responded with enthusiasm, gliding his hands over the freshly exposed skin of Draco’s back. “So what’s step one?” he mumbled breathlessly.

“There are two ways we can begin this,” Draco replied against Potter’s lips, “stretching or no stretching.”

“Stretching?” Potter asked with a gasp as Draco’s hand trailed enticingly around his fresh erection.

“Mmm,” Draco mumbled, “it’s the act of preparation before I penetrate you. There are some people who prefer not to be stretched beforehand but for your first time, Potter, I would recommend stretching.” Draco gazed down at him intently.

“How do I—” Potter began.

“Allow me to take care of that,” the blond replied, stretching out an arm and murmuring, “ _Accio_.”

A small, crystal vial flew into Draco’s outstretched hand and Potter looked at it, tilting his head to the side.

“Scented oil,” Draco said, answering the brunet’s silent question. “You’ll know why soon he enough,” he finished with a smile.

Uncorking the vial, Draco poured some into his right hand, coating his fingers thoroughly before placing it aside and nudging one of Potter’s legs. Potter shifting his leg away silently, watching Draco’s every move.

“Relax, Harry,” Draco said. “Let me take care of you.”

In an attempt to distract the brunet, Draco leant forward to kiss him again, running his tongue teasingly along Potter’s bottom lip. The Gryffindor melted into the kiss, just as Draco hoped he would. He kept the male beneath him distracted enough that when he suddenly breached Potter’s puckered entrance with a well lubricated finger, Potter simply moaned in response and opened himself up to the blond.

Draco took his time in preparing Potter, knowing full well how much difference it made when done correctly. He was gentle and patient, something that surprised him greatly. In the past, the act had been hurried and rushed; an act of complete lust with whoever it was he was with at the time. It felt different with Potter though, and Draco was unable to express why this was.

Once Draco had three fingers inside of Potter, who was flushed and panting beneath him by this time, he reached for the vial and poured what was left onto his own hardened, and utterly impatient, cock. His hissed through his teeth as the cool liquid landed on his sensitive skin, a tingle running up its length.

“Ready?” Draco asked, removing his fingers from within Potter and spreading the oil up and down his erection with his other hand.

“God, _yes_ ,” Potter replied.

“Spread your legs for me,” Draco said, watching as the brunet complied immediately. After a second thought, Draco reached past Potter for a pillow, ordering the Gryffindor to lift his hips. “Elevation,” he explained at Potter’s perplexed facial expression as he slid the pillow beneath him. “It’ll be more comfortable for you.”

As Potter relaxed once again, Draco positioned himself in betwixt the male’s thighs.

“Just breathe, Potter,” Draco advised, lining himself up with Potter’s awaiting entrance.

Potter’s bewildered look quickly faded into realisation as Draco began to push his way inside of the male below him. It was Potter’s sharp intake of breath and his hands tightening their hold on Draco that helped hold the Slytherin back. Despite stretching Potter as much as he could with his fingers, Draco was well aware of the sense of invasion and pain that accompanied the initial penetration—especially for someone’s first time.

With a heightened sense of awareness that felt new to him, Draco was as gentle as he could be as eased himself inside the male below, paying particular attention to the worry that he might be hurting the Gryffindor. Both males exhaled a moan once Draco was seated at the hilt, his erection buried so deeply within Harry that when the brunet suddenly tensed his muscles, Draco felt it _everywhere_.

“Oh, _Merlin_.”

“That’s not my name,” Potter puffed in reply.

Draco moaned a laugh, his eyes opening and he stared down at the Gryffindor. He wanted to say something snarky, something clever. Instead, he murmured words that surprised even him.

“Are you alright?”

Potter’s gaze, which had evidently been waiting for a snarky response as well, softened in surprise. He nodded but said nothing. Slowly, Draco could feel the Gryffindor begin to relax around him but instead of pulling back, Draco leant forward, capturing Potter’s mouth in a hot kiss.

“You’re doing very well,” he breathed against Potter’s lips.

With a breathy laugh, Potter replied. “We haven’t done anything yet.”

Draco chuckled. “Oh no?” he said, flexing his hips teasingly.

A strangled groan barely left Potter’s throat as the male felt new sensations rock his figure.

“Do that again?” the male gulped.

Draco laughed softly. “Just you wait, Potter, it gets much better than this.” As if proving a point, Draco pulled back a little, swallowing a moan as he slid back in, but satisfied when Potter shivered enticingly beneath him. He repeated this motion, drawing further and further out each time. He thoroughly enjoyed the way Potter’s breath hitched each time he thrust inwards and it wasn’t long before Draco was moving powerfully, sweat glistening on his skin from exertion while Potter whimpered and gasped beneath him.

_Sweet Merlin, he feels fucking amazing…!_

Draco’s agreement was lost in a moan as he felt Potter tighten rhythmically around him. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer and, without thinking, he wrapped a hand around Potter’s erection, pumping it in time with each thrust.

Potter became undone, coming hard with a cry that sounded very much like Draco’s name. The blond was too far gone to realise this however, as Potter suddenly clenched firmly around him and Draco was brought to completion.

Sated, breathless, and sticky, Draco collapsed on top of Potter, not caring that they were still joined or that Potter’s hands were a soothing welcome as they glided up and down his back. They lay there without speaking, their gasping breaths breaking the silence as the post-coital glow began to recede.

“One thing is for sure,” Potter said, breaking the quiet that had fallen over them. “We should have tried this sooner.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Harry!”

Harry braced himself for Hermione’s hug, her bushy brown hair whipping him in the face as the female practically tackled him in the middle of the common room.

“ _Ooft_ ,” Harry groaned, catching the female and hugging her in return. “Hey, Mione.”

“How were your holidays?” she asked as she pulled away, a knowing glint in her eye.

“…Eventful…” Harry replied with half a smile. “Hey, Ron,” he said, catching sight of his best friend behind Hermione.

The red head smiled. “Have a good Christmas, mate?”

Memories flashed through the brunet’s mind and he hid a grin. “It was… peaceful,” he said innocently. “What about you guys?”

Ron opened his mouth to fill Harry in about his holiday, when Hermione suddenly interrupted, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Don’t _you_ have any news to tell us?” she asked.

“Well yes but it’s not really common room conversation,” Harry replied. “I promise I will tell you when we have some privacy, alright?”

Hermione seemed to calm at this news. “Alright,” she said with a grin.

“Am I missing something here?” Ron asked with a confused frown as he looked between them.

“You’ll know soon enough,” Harry assured. “I’ll fill you in after dinner. So, Ron, you were saying? How was your holiday?”

“Pretty good actually,” Ron admitted. “I sometimes forget that I don’t get to spend a lot of time with my parents considering we’re at school for most of the year; it was nice just being with them you know?”

In a way, Harry did. He felt this way whenever he remembered the time he’d had with Sirius, or when he was finally reunited with his friends after the summer break. Smiling at Ron, Harry clamped a hand on his shoulder.

 “I’m glad you had a nice time, mate,” he said, genuinely.

“You have to come next time though, alright?” Ron said, frowning at Harry seriously. “It actually felt weird not having you around. Plus the fact that mum wouldn’t shut up about you.”

Harry grinned. “You got it.”

 

* * *

 

“Good evening, Draco! Did you miss me? Your fantastic, beautiful, awe-inspiring best friend?” Pansy exclaimed as she threw open the door to Draco’s bedroom.

“Hello, Pansy,” Draco replied distractedly, eyes on his laptop screen as he sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed.

Pansy snorted. “Is that all I get? I’m away for days at a time and all I get back is ‘ _Hello, Pansy’_?” she scoffed, shutting the door behind her with a _bang_.

Draco glanced up at her. “Your influence is so strong it hardly felt as if you were gone.”

The female rolled her eyes as she crossed the room and sat herself down on the blond’s bedspread. “But you did miss me, didn’t you?”

“At times,” Draco said with a small smile. He closed his laptop and placed it aside. “Alright I’ll bite. How were your holidays?”

“Pleasant,” Pansy replied. “Despite the homework.”

“That’s it? You come barging in here and you don’t even have exciting news?”

“Actually, that’s something I wanted to ask _you_ ,” Pansy replied.

Draco frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You and Potter! Did anything happen?” she asked, bouncing excitedly on the bed. “Well?”

Draco paused. “Nothing’s changed.”

Pansy’s face fell. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Draco replied, leaning back on his pillows. “We avoided each other all holidays. I did try once to see if he was tolerable but alas there were no sparks.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you messing with me?” she asked suspiciously.

“No.”

Pansy’s face fell. “Oh.”

Draco wasn’t sure why he had decided to lie to Pansy—after all, he and Potter had already discussed that they would be telling their respective best friends once they returned from holidays.

_Could this be consideration for Potter that you’re currently feeling? Going to double check with him before blurting all of your secret sexual adventures…?_

_It seems so…_ Draco thought as Pansy began rattling off all the presents she had been given for Christmas.

 

* * *

 

“So what sort of news is this? Is this important news? Scary news? Are you secretly a girl, Harry?”

Harry chuckled as he shut his bedroom door behind Ron and Hermione. “Damn, Ron, you got it in one.”

The red head grinned as he sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed. “I always knew,” he said, pressing his hands to his chest and blinking at Harry.

Hermione snorted elegantly. “So _that_ explains the crush you two had on each other during first year…”

“Oh shut up, Mione,” the boys said unison.

“So,” Hermione began, grinned over at Harry excitedly. “Fill us in about _all_ the details!”

“Details?” Ron asked, a confused frown tugging at his brow as he looked between Hermione and Harry.

“Let me fill Ron in first, Hermione,” Harry said as he approached the bed. “So, um, do you remember the conversation we had about how there is a certain type that I like in a guy?”

“Yeah…” Ron said slowly, racking his brain. “You said Neville wasn’t your type and that you preferred blonds.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “Oh Merlin— _you didn’t_.”

“Yeah, I kind of maybe did,” Harry said sheepishly as he sat down in between his two best friends.

“ _But Malfoy?!_ ”

“Yep.”

“But he—doesn’t he—don’t you _hate_ each other?” Ron asked. “He’s such a prat! How can you manage to even stay in the same room as him?”

“We might have gotten drunk one night and talked,” Harry admitted. “He’s actually not as bad as we thought—I _know;_ don’t give me that look, Ron!”

Hermione, who had been sitting patiently while Ron came to terms with the news, spoke up.

“So, how are things between you?” she asked. “Is he treating you well?”

“Yes,” Harry said with a smile. “He really is.”

“Well good,” she said, getting to her feet.

“Hey, wait, where are you going?” Harry asked with a startled frown. “I thought you would have been dying to hear all the details.”

“No, no, Harry, that’s your business,” Hermione said, pausing beside the bed. “I just wanted to make sure that you were happy.”

Harry blinked in surprise. “But… you were so impatient before. You said you wanted to know everything.”

Hermione giggled. “More the fact that I wanted you to admit it,” she said honestly. “I’m happy for you, Harry, as long as Draco behaves.”

“This is so _weird_ ,” Ron announced. “ _Malfoy_ —really, Harry? You don’t find Neville attractive _at all_?”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, Ron, but Malfoy is the one who does it for me at the moment.”

Ron stared at Harry for a couple of seconds before releasing a great sigh. “Well, mate, if he makes you happy then I say go for it. Be warned though, if he hurts you in _any way_ he’s a dead man.”

Harry nodded. “Understood.”

“Good,” Ron said, crossing his arms stubbornly. “And tell him he has to be nicer to us otherwise you’ll break up with him.”

Harry snorted with laughter. “I don’t know if that is much of a threat,” he chuckled.

“Why not?” Ron asked. “He likes you, doesn’t he?”

“Well yeah I guess so but what we have is more—well we’re not boyfriends or anything… just mucking around,” Harry said with a shrug. “It’s not serious.”

 “Oh,” Ron said, brightening. “Then there’s a chance you’ll get over him.”

“Ronald!” Hermione said disapprovingly, glaring at the male as she crossed her arms in annoyance.

“ _Or_ he could get over me,” Harry continued. “Face it, Hermione, Malfoy and I still don’t know each other very well and considering our past… there’s a good chance this won’t last.”

“Well…” but Hermione fell silent. She knew he was right. “Still, as long as he keeps you happy then no harm done.” She nodded, as if ending the matter right then and there. “Come on, Ron, I don’t want you pestering Harry about this.”

“I’m not pestering!” Ron exclaimed. “I’m just concerned. Harry’s my best mate, excuse me for having doubts about the man we’ve had issues with since first year.”

“Actually there’s not really much more to tell,” Harry admitted. “I’m not really sure how we plan on acting now that school’s back.”

“Are you going to pretend that you still hate each other?” Hermione asked curiously.

“No, I don’t think so—but it’s not like we’re going to hold hands as we walk down corridors or anything,” Harry replied with a crooked smile. “I might go see him tonight and clarify.”

“But… how will you get in?” Ron asked.

“Invisibility cloak and password,” Harry said.

“Shame you don’t have his—oh! I’m such an idiot,” Hermione said, smacking herself on her forehead. “I have his email if you want it, Harry.”

“Why do _you_ have his email, Hermione?” Ron asked with a frown.

“Because we’re study partners, remember? Everyone was supposed to exchange emails with their partner when you were assigned,” Hermione explained patiently. “Harry?”

“Yeah that’s actually a good idea,” Harry said. “It’s probably best that I avoid sneaking into his room now that everyone’s back.” He grinned impishly at Ron’s groan. “Better get used to this, mate, you’re going to be hearing about it for a while.”

 

* * *

 

_Malfoy,_

_Hermione gave me your email if that’s alright. I figured it was better than trying to sneak into your room now that everyone is back. Speaking of which, I wasn’t sure how we were planning on going about once classes resume. Are we going to pretend to hate one another still or act somewhat friendly? I don’t mind either way, whatever you’re comfortable with._

_\- H._

 

“Anything interesting on the internet, Draco?” Pansy asked from her position further down Draco’s bed. Her laptop, which she had gone and gotten from her room, was lying open before her.

“Not really,” Draco commented as he hit ‘reply’. “What about you?”

“Can’t say I’ve found anything of importance. Hey, can you show me that blog site thing later? It looked pretty interesting.”

“Sure, give me a minute,” Draco said as he began to type out a reply to Potter.

 

_Potter,_

_It was probably a good idea for Granger to give you my email, it’ll make conversing with you in private a lot easier. In regards to how we’ll act in front of the school, I really don’t mind what we do. For the sake of our sanity it’ll probably be best to keep our… affection… for one another to a minimum. However, I don’t mind associating with you in public, I am happy to reveal that we have gotten over our issues._

_On another note, I’m sure you’ve told Weasley and Granger about us by now. I have yet to tell Pansy because I was unsure if you were comfortable with me doing so. Knowing Pansy she is bound to expect a lot of details. Are you happy with me telling Pansy about us?_

_\- D.M_

 

Draco reread his reply before sending it to Potter. He glanced at Pansy over the top of his laptop screen. _How will Pansy take the news I wonder…?_

 

* * *

 

Harry didn’t see Malfoy’s reply until the next morning. After sending the original email, Ron had demanded several games of wizard’s chess and some ‘best friend bonding time’. By the time they two of them had gotten to bed, it was very late and Harry, too tired to check his emails, had crashed into bed and fallen asleep.

After checking and replying to Malfoy, Harry felt strangely happy. He wasn’t used to Malfoy asking after his feelings—it meant that the Slytherin actually _cared_. How about that?

Grinning to himself as Harry got changed into his school robes, he discovered that he was actually looking forward to the day, despite having Potion’s with Snape first off. Swinging his bag over his shoulder and ruffling his hair, Harry began his way down the staircase to meet Ron and Hermione in the common room.

Hermione was already there, leaning against one of the couches, her laptop open and resting on one of her hands and she typed with the other.

“Don’t let it fall,” Harry warned and he joined her.

“Oh please,” Hermione scoffed with a smile.

“Seen Ron yet?” Harry asked.

“No not yet. I figured he probably slept in or something,” Hermione replied.

“I did not.” A third voice joined them and Harry and Hermione looked over to a rather dishevelled Ron.

“Your robe is inside out, mate,” Harry pointed out with a grin.

“Bugger, hold this will you?” Ron asked, handing over his bag.

Hermione and Harry exchanged smirks as Ron righted his robe with a sleepy yawn.

“No more late nights for you, Ronald,” Hermione stated, shutting the lid of her laptop and sliding it into her bag.

“It wasn’t even that late when we went to bed,” Harry said. “What time did you go to sleep?”

“…Three thirty in the morning,” Ron replied sheepishly. “I found those things that muggles call ‘movies’ and watched a couple. It was so cool though! The stuff that muggles can come up with without the use of magic is amazing—Harry! Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”

“Erm… I didn’t really consider it,” Harry replied, handing Ron back his bag. “Come on, we better get a move on if we want breakfast before Snape tears our heads off in Potions.”

 

* * *

 

“Today will be a theory lesson. Copy down the notes on the board on either parchment or computer. Your homework assignment is listed at the bottom,” Snape said in a drone. “Do not forget that your essays are due at the end of the week.” Without further hesitation, Snape swept off to his desk. Harry’s brow lifted in slight surprise at Snape’s lack of effort.

_These laptops were the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts…_ he thought with a grin.

He retrieved his laptop from his bag and opened it, Hermione and Ron doing the same beside him. In fact, most of the class were opening their laptops and soon the classroom was filled with the _tick-tack_ of keyboard keys.

Before long, Harry had copied down all the notes from the board and, considering that Snape was immersed in whatever it was he was doing, Harry decided that some net browsing wouldn’t go amiss. He checked his email first and was happy to see an email from Malfoy.

 

_Potter,_

_Meet me in the library after Potions?_

_\- D.M_

 

Harry glanced across the classroom to where the blond was sitting beside Pansy. The two of them were hard at work it seemed, comparing notes on a particular essay that had probably been set over the holidays.

 _I wonder if he’s told Pansy yet…?_ Harry thought, turning his gaze back to his screen. He quickly typed back a reply, not sure if the blond would see it in time or not. Then he turned to his friends.

“Do guys mind if I go to the library to meet up with Malfoy during our free period?” he murmured quietly.

“Of course not,” Hermione replied immediately. “Why what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Harry replied. “I think he might want me there when he tells Pansy about us.”

“You mean he actually waited?” Ron asked, aghast.

“He wanted to make sure that I was alright with him telling her. See, I told you he’s not that bad,” Harry said with a smug smile.

Ron snorted. “Hold on, allow me to contain my excitement at the fact that Malfoy was actually considerate for once.”

Laughing softly, Harry returned to his work. He wondered if Malfoy had mentioned anything to Pansy yet and if so, how much.

_Would she really dig for details like Malfoy said she would? I don’t know if I want to be there for that particular conversation…_

Harry felt his cheeks burn. It was one thing to tell Pansy that he and Malfoy were now fooling around, but it was another to tell her everything that they’ve done behind closed doors.

 _Only one way to find out_ … Harry thought, glancing at his watch.

 

* * *

 

“And I’m worried that I didn’t answer the actual question… did you find that when you read through my essay?”

“Your essay was fine,” Draco replied as he and Pansy entered the library. “Perfectly acceptable.”

“But you know how Professor Snape is! ‘ _Perfectly acceptable_ ’ isn’t good enough for him,” Pansy continued.

“Fine, we’ll go over it again tonight, alright?” Draco promised, spying a table in a rather secluded corner. _Perfect…_

“Why don’t we go over it now? That’s why we came here isn’t it?” Pansy frowned.

“No, there’s something else I want to discuss with you,” Draco replied, placing his bag down on the wooden table-top and pulling out a seat.

“Something serious?” Pansy asked.

“No… I wouldn’t say serious.” Draco smirked.

“Well?” Pansy questions as she sat down. “So spill.”

Draco lowered himself into his chair. “I’m screwing around with Potter.”

“Yes I know.” Pansy frowned. “Although I’d hoped that you’d cut him a break—”

“ _No_ ,” Draco interrupted, his smirk growing on his lips. “I’m _physically_ screwing around with him.”

Pansy’s jaw dropped. “Since when?” she hissed, “for how long?”

Draco lent back in his chair. “A little while,” he replied.

“Draco Malfoy, you lying bastard!” Pansy exclaimed in a furious whisper. “Did this happen before or after Christmas?”

“Before. In fact I’m pretty sure we spent most of Christmas day on my bed—”

“Alright I get it,” Pansy said, holding up a hand. “Well that’s good isn’t it? You’ve bagged the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“I wouldn’t settle for anything less.” Draco chuckled indulgently.

Pansy snorted. “Obviously. So what is the relationship between you?”

“Unclear at the moment,” Draco replied. “We haven’t really spoken about it.”

“What do _you_ want it to be?”

The blond shrugged, fiddling with his bag strap. “I’m content with how we are.”

“And if Potter want’s something more?” Pansy questioned.

“I don’t think he does,” Draco said in reply.

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“What do you want me to say, Pansy?” Draco sighed. “We’ve only been screwing around for two weeks.”

Pansy frowned. “You need to make it clear with Potter about where this might go. You know I love you, Draco, but if you break his heart you won’t just have Weasley and Granger after you but me as well.”

“So much for Slytherin loyalty,” Draco moped, folding his arms.

Pansy smiled and patted him consolingly. “Don’t worry; if Potter breaks your heart, he’s as good as dead.”

“Malfoy’s don’t _have_ hearts. There’s nothing to break.”

“Don’t you care for Potter?” Pansy asked curiously.

“Liking him and caring for him are two completely different things,” Draco clarified. “Aren’t we allowed to enjoy ourselves without making it too difficult with silly female emotions?”

“If you say so,” Pansy said wryly. “Just don’t be surprised, alright? You don’t know Potter very well, neither of us do. And you never know, _you_ might come to care for him.”

“I can’t see that happening any time soon,” Draco retorted. “What Potter and I have at the moment is probably nothing more than lust. We find each other physically attractive.”

“Positive?”

“At the moment, yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t.”

Pansy rubbed her eyes. “Draco…”

The blond quirked an eyebrow. “Would you prefer to hear it from the man himself?”

“What?”

“Hey, Pans, Malfoy.”

“Potter, care to join us?” Draco smirked, offering the chair beside him.

The corner of Potter’s lips quirked in a half smile, his eyes warming. “I’m not interrupting am I?”

“Not at all,” Draco replied, “only Pansy involving herself in matters that don’t concern her.”

“So what’s new?” Potter said snidely, sitting beside the blond Slytherin.

Pansy glared at the two of them. “You’ve been hanging with Draco for two weeks and he’s already rubbed off on you.”

Potter smiled charmingly. “You know I don’t mean it, Pansy.”

“Oh Merlin, how could I ever say no to that face?” Pansy groaned.

 _Tell me about it…_ Draco thought, keeping his gaze set firmly away from Potter’s. “Pansy is determined to find out exactly what our relationship is.”

Potter frowned faintly. “Why?” he asked.

“Because it’s Pansy,” Draco replied.

“Ah,” Potter said, pulling a face. “Is she expecting us to hold hands in the corridors or something?”

“Would you?” Pansy asked curiously.

Potter smiled but shook his head. “I’m not altogether fond of public displays of affection.”

“A man of fine taste,” Draco stated.

“Would you expect anything else?” Potter replied with an impish grin.

“Of course not.”

Pansy watched the two young men carefully. Their interaction had certainly improved since they’d begun this—well, whatever this was, and it amazed Pansy to see them both so at ease with one another. She was also happy to note that neither of them dominated the other. When Draco bit, Potter bit back. Their chemistry was immensely interesting to observe and although Draco had attempted to deny it, Pansy was positive there was something there between them. She only wondered how long it would take for either boy to figure it out.

“Perhaps Pansy would be satisfied if we started calling each other a sappy pet name,” Potter said with a smirk, winking in the female’s direction.

“Alright, I get it,” she replied with a glare. “But one day you two are going to get to a point where screwing around just isn’t enough.”

Potter turned a frightened look to Draco. “That can happen?” he gasped in mock-horror.

“Apparently,” Draco replied, smirking at the annoyed Slytherin.

“Merlin you two are frustrating,” she growled, jabbing a finger in their direction. “You’ll want my help soon enough.”

“We’re content, thank you.”

“Shut _up_ , Draco.”

Potter smiled. “Pansy, relax, okay? I’m sure at the first sign of trouble you’ll be the first to know. Fortunately for Draco and myself, we aren’t too worried about defining what we have. If it develops it develops. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t, no harm done.”

“I knew there was a reason why I enjoyed your company, Potter.”

“You mean all those years were just an act? I’m appalled!”


	19. Chapter 19

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Snape…”

“Snape did what?”

Harry stared down at his essay with wide eyes before turning them to Hermione who was staring worriedly at her best friend.

“Snape gave me an _Exceeds Expectations_ on my essay!”

“What?!” Ron roared, snatching the parchment from Harry’s hands. “No _way!_ ”

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione beamed, pulling the brunet into a hug. “I’m so proud of you! Congratulations!”

Smiling bemusedly, Harry returned her hug. “Seems like there are some perks in hanging with Slytherins after all.”

Ron whistled. “Well, if hanging around Slytherins gets you marks like these who’s complaining?”

“Not me.” Harry snickered, taking back his essay and shoving it into his bag. “I wonder how many blood vessels burst in Snape’s temple before he allowed himself to give me such a good mark.”

“Come now, Harry,” Hermione scolded. “Professor Snape is still your teacher, and even if he does—”

“Hate me?” Harry said.

“Loathe him?” Ron chimed in.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Even if he doesn’t get along with you, he can still recognise hard work and improvement.”

The brunet snorted. “More like he’s doing it because Malfoy and I are… spending time together.”

“Yeah, well…” Hermione shrugged and trailed off as they exited the Potions classroom. The three of them sauntered down the dark corridor, none of them particularly in a hurry to get to their next class which was History of Magic.

“Do you think Binn’s would notice if I didn’t go?” Ron said, thinking longingly of the warm Gryffindor common room.

“Ron, you can’t afford to miss class!” Hermione snapped angrily. “Exams, Ronald, _exams_!”

“So?” Ron whined. “They’re _months_ away.”

“And you’ll need all the time you can get,” Hermione warned. She glared at Harry as well for good measure. “I will not be taking notes for you two, that’s not fair.”

“Alright, alright,” Ron replied, waving a flippant hand. “I’ll end up searching the internet way,” he muttered to Harry.

 

Most of the class had already seated themselves as Hermione, Ron, and Harry arrived to their lesson. They took seats towards the back thanks to Ron’s persuasion. Harry didn’t mind, he wasn’t really in the mood for note taking either. Instead, he pulled out his laptop and sketch book. Harry didn’t see why he couldn’t browse Tumblr and do some sketching whilst Binn’s droned on and on about the finances of Goblins.

The Gryffindors didn’t have History of Magic with the Slytherins, so there was no blond head that Harry could stare at. Instead, he focussed his attention on his laptop, whose screen now displayed his Tumblr dashboard.

Harry could practically feel Hermione’s disapproving stare burning into the side of his face and he turned an innocent look in her direction.

“Just for in between notes,” he said.

“I’m sure,” Hermione replied, unconvinced.

“I’ll draw you a picture,” Harry offered.

For a second, Harry thought he’d almost convinced Hermione to let him take it easy this lesson—

“No,” she said haughtily. “This is more important.”

Grumbling, Harry returned his sketch book to his bag and opened up a fresh Word document. For the first twenty minutes of their double period, Harry dutifully copied down notes. When his attention began to roam, however, Harry decided to reward himself with some Tumblr.

By this time, even Hermione was beginning to get a glazed look in her eyes as she stared at their teacher. Harry was amused to note when she finally gave up and decided to browse her dashboard as well.

Coming across a post of _Blonds-Do-It-Better_ , Harry realised that it had been a while since he and his Tumblr friend had communicated.

_Well why don’t we send him a message…?_

Harry opened a new tab and typed in the URL. The familiar blog popped into view and Harry went to his ask box.

 

_Hey fellow Tumblr user, long time no talk. How’s everything been? How were your Christmas/holidays?_

-               _Lightning-Shaped-Scars._

 

Harry hit send and his message whisked away. He closed the page and returned to his dashboard.

 

* * *

 

Pansy glanced over when she heard Draco make a noise of surprise. She and the blond were in his bedroom doing their homework, parchment and textbooks between them and their laptops in their laps.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s nothing,” Draco replied, his fingers beginning to tap across his keyboard.

Pansy rolled her eyes and shifted herself so she was able to look over his shoulder.

“You’re _still_ playing this charade?” she said exasperatedly. “You’ve snagged him already, Draco, you need to put a stop to this.”

Draco brushed her off. “Firstly, _he_ contacted _me_ ,” he began. “Secondly—”

“Oh cut the crap, Draco.” Pansy frowned at him. “What happens if Potter finds out about this?” she asked, gesturing towards his screen.

“How could he?” Draco sneered in reply. “It’s nothing I should be concerned with—what are the chances?”

“Just one,” Pansy replied warningly, “and you never know when it might be. Say you’re in the library and he happens to walk behind you while you’re on that particular website, or say you slip up unexpectedly and say something that gives you away—”

“Alright, I get it,” Draco interrupted impatiently. He sighed heavily, running a hand over his hair. “I know,” he continued, slightly calmer. “But I just… there’s no reason to rock the hippogriff now, right? I’m no longer using it against him.”

Pansy shook her head. “You don’t _get_ it, Draco. It’s more than that now—it’s about trust. If Harry somehow finds out about this before you tell him, what is he supposed to think?”

Draco was silent as he stared at the screen. The blinking cursor line winked back at him teasingly.

 _She’s right…_ Draco’s subconscious chimed in. _Aren’t you lucky…?_

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Harry?” Ron asked, running the feather of his quill lazily against his upper lip as he stared moodily down at his homework.

“Well, he’s _supposedly_ studying with Malfoy,” Hermione replied, shifting a couple of books off of her desk.

Ron snorted. “Yeah, ‘studying’, sure.” He heaved a great sigh and dropped his quill onto his Transfiguration book. He glanced at Hermione who was scratching away fervently at a draft study timetable. “Hey, Mione, can I ask you something?”

“What is it, Ronald?” she asked, eye gaze still fixed pointedly on the parchment below.

“What do you _really_ think of Harry hanging around Malfoy?”

Hermione blinked. “What do you mean?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Well…” Ron began slowly. “I mean don’t you think it’s a little… weird? Like, it was so sudden.”

“Well, yes in a way,” Hermione replied, placing her quill down and applying a thoughtful expression to her face. “But Harry seems really happy at the moment.”

“You don’t think the ferret could be tricking him into anything?” Ron asked, his brow crinkling with concern.

Hermione pulled a face. “Truthfully, it’s hard to say. I want to say no because I like to believe that everyone has at least something good about them… and I _did_ sort of get to know Malfoy through our study sessions… he’s not as bad as he could be.”

Ron chewed on his bottom lip as he thought it all over.

“Think of it this way, Ron,” Hermione said. “Should Malfoy do _anything_ to Harry, we’ll be the first people to hunt him down.”

The red-head seemed to brighten at this idea. “Good plan,” he grinned. “I just hope it doesn’t come down to that.”

 

* * *

 

_SLAM_ .

Draco practically growled as he pulled away from Potter’s mouth and glared over his shoulder at the female now crossing the floor of Draco’s bedroom towards them.

“ _What_ , Pansy?” he demanded.

“I was bored.” She pouted, coming to a halt beside Draco’s bed.

“You were _bored_ ,” Draco repeated wryly as Potter chuckled from beneath him. “Well excuse me if I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re _bored_. Potter and I are busy.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Pansy replied with a smirk. “You should probably lock your door then if that is the case.”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

Ignoring him, Pansy turned her gaze to the brunet. “We need to get ourselves organised into a substantial study schedule again,” she said as she lifted a hand to observe her nails.

Knowing exactly what the female was doing, Potter chuckled again. “Do we have to do this right now? Draco looks like he’s about to murder you.”

Pansy fluttered her hand. “I get that stare at least three times a day,” she said loftily.

“Evidently it’s not enough,” Draco snarled. “Fuck off, Pansy.”

“Ask nicely.” Pansy sniffed haughtily.

“ _Please_ fuck off, Pansy.”

“Was that so hard?” Pansy said sweetly, blowing him a kiss and breezing out of the room.

Draco growled in annoyance and dropped his head down onto Potter’s shoulder.

“I think we need to attach bells to that girl,” the brunet commented. “At least that way we’ll be able to hear her coming.”

“Or I could just permanently attach her to a wall,” Draco replied, lifting his head.

“Hmm, yes, I can see the benefits of that…”

“Might get me in trouble though.”

“Ah, but you see I am Head Boy, who says anyone has to find out who did it?”

Draco chuckled darkly. “Stop it, Potter, you’re allowing this idea to be far too tempting.”

Harry grinned. “So, are we actually going to get any homework done or was that simply a ruse to have your wicked way with me?” the brunet asked, slyly.

“Oh, wicked way most definitely,” Draco replied. “That was, of course, until Miss Parkinson decided to be so thoughtful and interrupt us.”

“Well then, shouldn’t you be picking up where you left off?”

“Are you ordering me around, Potter?”

“Maybe.” A smirk curled at the brunet’s lips. “Is that secretly a turn on for you, Draco?”

“Bossy Gryffindors? Mmm, you better believe it.” Draco leant down and captured Potter’s mouth in a searing kiss. The male responded immediately, his tongue battling with Draco’s. The blond, determined as always, won, and Potter allowed Draco to take control of the kiss, while his hands slid up beneath Draco’s shirt, nails scoring his skin.

“I think—” the Gryffindor gasped as Draco bit down on his neck, “that maybe— _ugh—_ you should actually _lock_ your— _oh, fuck_ —door.”

“Not in the mood to put on a show then?” Draco replied, unbuttoning Potter’s shirt.

“Not everyone is an exhibitionist like you, Malfoy.”

“You’re going to pay for that, Potter.”

Potter grinned again. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Despite his taunting, Draco reached over for his wand and gave it a flick in the direction of his door. There was a _click_ and the blond returned his wand back to the bedside table before turning his smouldering gaze back to the brunet below him.

“Satisfied?” he quipped.

Potter chuckled. “I will be soon.”

“Such a randy little lion,” Draco commented, finally removing Potter’s shirt and tossing it aside.

“Look who’s talking,” the brunet replied, his muscles contorting deliciously as he sat up. His gaze fell to the Slytherin’s mouth as his hands went to the buttons on the blond’s white school shirt, yet he held back on purpose, enjoying the way Draco sought after his lips.

“Stop that,” the blond chided breathlessly as Potter teased him.

The other boy grinned in response. “Don’t like the chase, Draco?”

“I’m impatient,” the blond remarked, placing a hand on the back of Potter’s head and bringing his lips to his.

Potter’s uncontrolled moan sent lust coursing through Draco’s already pulsing body. When the Gryffindor was finally done unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugged out of the material and tossed it carelessly aside, desperate to get the pleasure train moving along. He pushed Potter back against the bedspread, keeping their mouths connected all the while.


	20. Chapter 20

“Tonight?”

Harry pulled a face. “Quidditch practice.”

Malfoy’s nose crinkled. “Typical,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“Tomorrow?” Harry suggested.

The blond shook his head. “I’m tutoring some of the younger students.”

“Aww, Draco…”

“Don’t you start with me, Potter.”

Harry grinned. “Guess it’ll have to be Thursday,” he continued.

Malfoy heaved a long, dramatic sigh. “Why can’t you come by _after_ Quidditch practice?”

“Because I’ll be sweaty and gross.”

“Sweaty isn’t such a bad thing.”

“But being stinky and gross definitely is.”

“Do you not realise we Slytherins _have_ showers?”

Harry chuckled. “Well… I guess you could always join me…”

A sultry smile curled at the Slytherin’s lips. “Now there’s the Gryffindor I was looking for.”

Harry’s smile remained but he shook his head. “Seriously, Draco, it’ll be late by the time I get back—”

“So stay the night,” Malfoy interrupted, flicking his hand in a careless manner. “Bring your school robes and sneak out in the morning.”

Harry put a hand to his chest. “You mean…” he gasped. “ _Bring an overnight bag?_ ”

“Call it whatever you want, Potter, I’m a male and I have needs and I _don’t wait_.”

Hiding in their secluded alcove, Harry tried to keep his laughter subdued. It was one of their favourite nooks, one they saved for special encounters en route to class. “And here I was thinking we might be getting serious.” Gazing at the Slytherin with a curious smile, Harry nodded. “Alright, I’ll come after Quidditch practice.”

“Finally,” Malfoy exclaimed. “Merlin, I almost had to _beg_.”

Harry snorted. “Not you, never you.” He glanced at his watch, surprised to see that he and the blond had been conversing for over twenty minutes. “Good thing we settled this when we did, we’re late for Transfiguration.”

The blond snorted elegantly. “Please, Potter, I believe our potential sexual activities are a _little_ more important than school work.”

 

* * *

 

It was dusk and Draco had only just returned to his room after an intense study session in the library. He dropped his bag, laptop, and cloak off onto his bed and headed for the bathroom to refresh himself. He glanced at his watch and a small smile tugged at his lips. Potter would hopefully be here soon, depending on how long his Quidditch practice went. Then the evening was all theirs.

_A hot, steamy romp in the shower to start sounds like a good idea…_ Draco’s subconscious murmured alluringly.

The blond felt his body instantly begin to heat. _Stop that_ , he chided. _Potter’s not even here yet…_

Exiting the bathroom, Draco’s eyes landed on his laptop. _Better to keep myself distracted until he_ does _get here…_

The blond picked up his laptop and took it over to his desk, booting it up. Hermione had sent him some of her notes from their study session this evening, he might as well go over them whilst he was waiting. Reaching for the drawer on his left side, Draco was sure he remembered having a pile of spare parchment—

Draco froze, his gaze on the occupants of his drawer.

Nestled inside was a familiar pile of parchment. Within the pile was every scrap of ‘evidence’ Draco had accumulated over the past few months to use against Potter. He’d almost forgotten about it.

 _Well…?_ said the voice in his head, _what are you going to do with this, hmm?_

Draco frowned. “… Burn it, obviously,” he answered after a short hesitation.

_Destroying the evidence of your malicious then?_

The Slytherin snorted. “It’s not like that,” he tried to reassure himself. He stared at the pile of paper for a minute longer before coming to a conclusion. _It was time to be done with this…_

Taking the pile of parchment out of the drawer, Draco took it into the bathroom and placed it into the sink. He stared at it for half a second and then raised his wand.

“ _Confringo_.”

The papers immediately burst into flames, curling into blackened ash as the pile smouldered before him. Once it had become nothing but a pile of grey cinders, Draco turn on the tap, watching as the water washed away the last remnants of his foul play.

For a few minutes afterwards, Draco simply stared at the empty, glistening sink. He figured he should have felt better, knowing he had done the right thing… and yet, the blond felt almost hollow…

Before his subconscious could chime in with the reason why Draco felt exactly the way he was, the blond left the room, shoving the thoughts from his mind.

* * *

“Seriously?” Ron stared at Harry as the brunet pulled his Quidditch robes over his head.

“Well… yeah,” Harry replied.

“Sounds like you guys are getting pretty serious,” Ron continued, raising his eyebrows.

Harry shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that.” He tossed his robes into his bag and grabbed a t-shirt.

“Mate… you’re taking an overnight bag.”

“So?” Harry quirked an eyebrow at his best friend. “What am I supposed to do? Walk naked back through the castle?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “You guys are planning nights in advance to see each other, you’re meeting up on _school_ nights… you’re even finishing Quidditch practice early just so you can spend more time with him. Mate… you’re completely smitten.”

“I am not,” Harry denied, not meeting the red head’s eyes.

“Oh yeah? I’m going to ask you some questions—”

“Oh, come _on_ , Ron—”

“Just bear with me,” his friend added hastily.

“Fine.”

“What’s his favourite colour?”

“Green,” Harry replied automatically.

“Well… that’s a given.” Ron cleared his throat. “When’s his birthday?”

“June fifth.”

“Favourite food?”

“… Belgian chocolate…” Harry stared at his best friend. “Fuck.”

Ron grinned. “Told you so, mate.”

Harry felt himself lean back against the wall of lockers. “So I know a few things about him—that tends to happen when you hang around someone a lot.”

“You’ve been hanging with Pansy a lot as well and probably couldn’t tell me the same things,” Ron pointed out.

“Well… I _do_ know that her favourite colour is red…” Harry trailed off. _But that was it, wasn’t it? He hadn’t made much of an effort to remember anything else… and he specifically remembered Pansy mentioning something about her favourite food but he hadn’t paid much attention then, had he…?_ “I’m not sleeping with Pansy, though; it’s totally different.”

“Uh huh, sure, mate, whatever you say.”

Shaking his head, Harry picked up his bag. “If it turns out you’re right when I’m ready to admit it, you can gloat as much as you want,” he promised. “Until then, I shall remain pleasantly happy in denial.”

 

* * *

 

Theodore Nott’s nose crinkled as he spied Potter crossing their common room floor. The brunet was carrying a bag over his left shoulder, his gaze set determinedly on the males staircase.

“What the fuck is Potter doing here _again_?” he spat.

Blaise, who was sitting beside him with his nose buried in a textbook, glanced up. He shrugged. “He, Draco, and Pansy have become pretty good friends,” the dark skinned male replied.

“I don’t see why,” Nott grumbled, watching as Potter disappeared up the staircase.

“Why so sour, Theo?” Blaise frowned at his friend.

Nott shot Blaise a look. “I’ve heard that he’s a queer.”

Blaise’s elegant eyebrows rose in silent question. “And?”

Nott scoffed. “And it’s disgusting,” the young male responded angrily. “Potter doesn’t belong down here—he should be with his own house. Merlin knows why he’s desperate to hang around Slytherins.”

Blaise shook his head disdainfully, returning his gaze to his textbook. “I don’t know why you’re concerning yourself with this.”

A sneer curled at Nott’s lips but he remained quiet, eyes on the location where he had last seen Potter.

 

* * *

 

“Honey, I’m home,” Potter called as he entered Draco’s bedroom.

“You _did not_ just say that,” Draco replied, glancing over his shoulder.

The brunet grinned impishly, crossing the floor to Draco’s desk where the blond was seated. “I couldn’t resist freaking you out,” he replied innocently. “Are you studying? I’ll go jump in for a quick shower and leave you to it, if you want.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Draco replied immediately, slamming the lid of his laptop down. “I have been bored out of my mind waiting for you—there’s no way I’m giving up a romp in the shower for— _ugh_ —studying.” The blond got to his feet, took Potter’s bag strap into his hand and tugged it off his shoulder, allowing the bag to flop to the floor. “You. Me. Shower. _Now_.”

A smirk curled at the Gryffindor’s lips as the brunet turned around, starting for the bathroom. Draco stalked after him, lust beginning to gnaw at his insides. The two of them had barely gotten inside before the blond slammed the door shut, tugged at Potter’s shirt to pull him closer, and planted an impatient kiss on his mouth.

Potter immediately arched into the embrace, his hands coming to rest on Draco’s upper arms, fingers digging into his skin. He groaned into the Slytherin’s mouth, breath catching as Draco ghosted his fingers down his throat, curling around to stroke the soft skin on the back of the Gryffindor’s neck. Something awoke within Draco’s chest. Something hot, insatiable, and desperate. He kissed Potter until the young man was weak in the knees and his cheeks were flushed a deep red.

“Are we… actually going to get _into_ the shower?” Potter managed to mumble, eyes heavy lidded as he gazed up at Draco.

“Eventually,” the blond replied, eyeing the brunet’s swollen lips, “at this moment however, I can’t resist how delectable you look all dishevelled.”

 

 

The hot water was delectable on Harry’s skin… and it wasn’t the only thing. Malfoy’s hands were everywhere they needed to be, the blond’s skilful fingers finding places of pleasure that even Harry himself had not yet discovered.

Their bodies, slick with water, were inseparable; a tangle of limbs as their mouths sought for areas to kiss, nip, and suck. Harry’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions with a desperate edge; he could barely keep himself standing let alone talk. When he felt Malfoy’s fingers over his arse, the brunet could only hiss a single word.

“ _Yes_.”

Malfoy kissed Harry feverishly as he lifted the brunet up. Harry wrapped his legs around the blond’s waist, his back resting against the saturated tiles.

The blond pulled away just long enough to gaze at Harry, his silver eyes shining with profound lust.

“Ready?” he murmured huskily.

Harry nodded.

As Malfoy slid home, Harry knew there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, Harry,” Hermione said pointedly as they greeting the brunet at the bottom of the stairs. “I didn’t see you in the common room last night.”

Harry grinned, glancing at Ron. “I, er, had a sleepover with a friend.”

Hermione turned to the red head beside her. “You _knew?_ And you didn’t _tell me?!_ ”

“It was Harry’s business!” Ron replied quickly. “Besides, it’s not like you asked me outwardly where Harry was.”

“Well come on or we’ll miss breakfast,” Hermione continued, gesturing towards to the Great Hall. She, Ron, and Harry were crossing the surprisingly empty Entrance Hall when a lone figure suddenly bumped into them.

“Don’t _touch_ me, Potter!” a voice spat.

It was Theodore Nott, and he’d jerked away from the brunet as if burned.

Harry frowned at him. “What’s your problem, Nott?”

“ _You’re_ my problem,” Nott sneered, jabbing a finger in Harry’s direction.

“What the hell!” Ron immediately growled in defence. “Harry hasn’t done anything to you!”

“It’s what he _is_!” Nott scoffed angrily.

Harry felt his stomach drop. Wrapping his arms around his torso, he spoke. “And what’s that,” he said deadpanned, knowing exactly what the answer would be.

“You’re a queer,” Nott hissed. “A good for nothing nancy. Your kind isn’t accepted by us _normal_ people.”

Harry felt his throat constrict, his eyes burning.

“You _disgust_ me, Potter, a fucking queer like you should be—”

“I don’t think you want to finish that sentence, Theodore,” a familiar voice drawled.

Harry’s watery gaze shot to Malfoy who was standing behind Nott, arms folded and an expression so murderous it gave Harry chills.

“Fuck off, Draco, this doesn’t concern you,” Nott spat nastily, eyes still on Harry.

“Actually it involves me more than you think,” Malfoy snapped, “because I would _love_ to see how you react when you discover it’s _me_ Potter is fucking.”

Nott’s face paled, the fight draining from him instantly. “What?” he asked, turning to face the blond. “You—but you’re different—I mean—”

“Different?” Malfoy sneered spitefully. “I didn’t realise you _could_ categorise gays depending on your prejudices.”

“That isn’t—”

“What you’re doing? Please tell me what you are then.” Malfoy’s lip curled in disgust. “But don’t let me interrupt you, Theo, please continue with what you were about to say,” he said curtly, flicking his hand impatiently. “I wouldn’t want to stop you from making yourself the largest, bigoted idiot in this entire school.”

“Too late,” Ron muttered, “he’s already done that.”

“I don’t know what it more pitiful,” Malfoy said with a disapproving glare, “your ridiculous opinions or the fact that I agree with Weasley. Now get the fuck out of my sight before a particularly nasty spell finds its way up your arse.”

Nott paled several degrees and backed away, hands raised in surrender.

Harry’s friends immediately turned to him, their anger and concern evident on their faces.

“Harry, don’t let it get to you,” Hermione began gently, “he just said those words knowing it would hurt you.”

Harry’s head remained bowed; shoulders slumped in defeat as his arms tightened their hold around his torso. Hermione bit her lip worriedly, glancing at Ron who struggled to think of something to say.

“Potter.”

Harry lifted his head, catching Malfoy’s gaze. The blond quirked his head in invitation and, after a slight hesitation, Harry went to him silently. Ron made to follow but it was Hermione’s gentle hand on his arm that prevented him. The red head looked at her and she simply shook her head, staring at him knowingly. Ron huffed but remained where he was, turning concerned blue eyes in Harry’s direction.

 

* * *

 

The sight of Potter looking so defeated made Draco want to string Theo up by his balls. That pompous prat had had no right in attacking his Gryffindor so viciously and the blond was relieved that he had happened upon the scene before it had escalated any further.

“Harry, look at me,” Draco said clearly.

The brunet lifted his head, his green eyes so dull it made Draco’s chest feel… strange. Pushing the feeling aside, Draco let his arms fall from the defensive fold they’d been in.

“I apologise for him, Harry, Nott should not have said the things he did,” Draco began, holding Potter’s gaze.

The young man swallowed, turned his stare away and shrugged in reply, obviously not trusting himself to speak right at that moment.

“I mean it,” Draco continued. “I understand how self-conscious you are about your sexuality and Theo’s words would not have helped that. Do not however, believe him. Your preferences are none of his concern nor anyone else’s.”

“He seemed pretty concerned about it,” Harry muttered bitterly.

“That’s his problem,” Draco replied. “That _does not mean_ that it is _your_ problem. What you do and how you live your life is your business and yours alone.”

Potter’s brow crinkled in confusion. “How do you remain so confident?” he asked, voice croaky.

Draco smirked. “Because it’s me,” he replied. “Come now, when have I ever been otherwise?” He was glad to see the small smile that made an appearance on the Gryffindor’s face. “And you have the right to be just as confident—even more so. Potter, you’re Head Boy _and_ the Boy-Who-Lived—no one can touch you. Well, except for me.” The blond’s smirk grew, his gaze sweeping over Potter from head to toe. Potter blushed.

“Aside from that,” the blond continued, “who you are, what you do, and who you like is your own business. People aren’t always going to agree but who cares? That’s not your problem. No matter what we wish, there will always be someone who disagrees with you. And that’s alright, because at the end of the day, whatever is making you happy is obviously doing the trick. Why give that up for someone with the bigoted opinion of a troll?”

Potter rubbed the back of his neck, the confusion fading from his brow. Draco watched as the tension slowly eased from the young man’s shoulders and his eye began to brighten.

“Thank you,” Potter said. “I really needed… to hear that.”

“You’re welcome,” Draco replied. “Feel like joining me for a cheer up session in my bedroom? I wouldn’t want any doubts in your mind in regards to your sexuality.”

Potter glanced over at his friends. Draco followed his gaze, observing the suspicious expression on Weasley’s face and the understanding look on Granger’s.

“Go on,” the bushy haired female said.

The grateful look that was returned confirmed Draco’s suspicion—Potter needed the reassurance that being gay was not something to be ashamed of and that what he and Draco did was not only enjoyable on both their parts but accepted by Potter’s friends as well.

Returning his gaze to Draco, Potter smiled gently. “I’m all yours,” he said.

“Excellent, I plan to have you for a while,” Draco replied, gesturing down the hallway. “Shall we?”

Potter nodded and followed Draco’s lead, walking side by side with the blond down the corridor, leaving Weasley and Granger behind.

 

* * *

 

Watching their best friend walk away with their once archenemy, the two Gryffindors were a mix of emotions.

Ron whistled in a descending tone. “Shit.”

Hermione smiled knowingly. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

Ron pulled a face. “But Malfoy? _Really_?”

“Better get used to it,” Hermione replied, “because I have a feeling he’ll be around for a while.”

 

* * *

 

Harry could feel the sadness within him disappearing with each step he and Malfoy took closer to the blond’s bedroom. The mere fact that Malfoy had  _defended_ him against one of his own housemates… it elated him.

For the first time since coming to terms with his sexuality Harry was truly content. Hell, if Malfoy of all people could go out of his way to make Harry feel better about himself then why shouldn’t he be happy for a change? He couldn’t help the way he felt, he couldn’t help that he was attracted to males and it wasn’t his fault.

Harry entered Malfoy’s room feeling more resolved than ever and he smiled to himself. _It’s funny how things turn out…_

“Excuse me for a moment, Potter,” Malfoy said, heading for the bathroom.

Harry loosened his tie as he started for the bed. He noticed Malfoy’s laptop sitting open on the duvet, screen saver in place. Picking it up gently, Harry placed it aside on the bedside table, his finger slipping and accidently hitting one of the keys. As the screen flickered into place, Harry’s first thought was how it was funny that Malfoy apparently had a Tumblr too.

As that thought settled, a sense of alarm overcame him. What were the chances of Malfoy, being a pure-blood wizard, happening across Tumblr, a muggle site? Shouldn’t Malfoy have very limited knowledge of the internet?

That however, wasn’t what concerned him the most. What did was how much sense it made. For _weeks_ Harry had known that the male he corresponded with sounded a lot like Malfoy in more ways than one. It had been eerie really, reading the words and picturing the blond speaking them.

With his heart in his throat, Harry looked at the Slytherin’s blog name.

 _Blonds-Do-It-Better_.

A lump formed in Harry’s throat.

Everything Malfoy had _just_ said, everything that Harry had believed… had it been a lie? Was their entire relationship a lie? Was Malfoy just _playing_ _with him?!_

Harry wasn’t sure what upset him the most; the fact that he had been fooled for so long or the fact that Malfoy had kept this from him. It wasn’t even the reality that Malfoy _was_ Blonds-Do-It-Better but the fact that he had said _nothing_ about it.

 _All_. _This_. _Time_.

Harry’s heart ached.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Harry’s gaze fell to the closed bathroom door.

_What now?_

* * *

 

A frown tugged into place as Draco opened the door and spied Potter looking so forlorn on his bed.

“Why the long face, Potter?” he asked, leaning against the door jam. As the last word left his mouth his gaze caught the familiar sight of his dashboard and the forgotten but extremely familiar sense of his heart falling echoed in his chest.

_Oh fuck…_

“I think you have some explaining to do,” Potter replied deadpanned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for the cliff hanger :D this story is now up-to-date with where I'm at with writing it. I promise to try and not keep you guys waiting for long but at the moment life is pretty hectic. <3 <3


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY WOW I'm really REALLY sorry that this took me so long to upload. Life was so hectic (Uni stuff of course) and then I was hit with the BIGGEST writer's block I have ever had. I actually wrote a large chunk of this chapter tonight as I was surprisingly and luckily enough to be hit with inspiration :D
> 
> Now this is just a rough draft of the chapter but since you lovely people have waited for so long already, I'm posting it tonight for you and will edit tomorrow. ENJOY! Please ignore any mistakes :D

_Well… you’ve made quite a mess of things haven’t you…?_

Draco groaned as his subconscious finally made an appearance. For the past hour the blond had been lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. When Draco had been unable to explain himself, or even make a sound, the brunet had gotten to his feet and left the room, leaving the Slytherin in a silence that was all too loud.

“Fucking _damn it_ ,” Draco cursed, slamming his head back against the mattress.

He had fucked up. _Big_ time. And he knew it.

Bloody Pansy had been right.

_“…It’s nothing I should be concerned with—what are the chances…?”_

_“…Just one… and you never know when it might be…”_

The memories of their conversation circled around his mind, mocking him viciously. How on earth was he going to fix this? If Draco had been in Potter’s position there was no way the blond would even want to _see_ the Gryffindor after something like this.

A groan of frustration slipped passed his lips. There was an ache in his chest that refused to go away and the more he dwelled on the situation, the greater the ache became. These feelings were very new to Draco; never before had he had someone in his life he cared about to this extent. And Merlin knew how he was going to make things alright between them.

Draco rubbed a hand over his face as he let out a deep breath. Coming up with a solution was proving to be a lot harder than he initially considered.

 _No point wallowing here…_ he thought irritably. He fumbled for his wand, giving it a flick. The glowing red numbers that appeared above his head told him it was close to lunch. If he was ever going to face Potter he might as well start now. The longer this festered, the worse it would become. Draco could only imagine the assumptions and fears that would be circulating in the brunet’s mind right now.

He had to make this right.

 

* * *

 

Hermione glanced up and down the Gryffindor table for the thirteenth time. She’d even spared a glance or two over at the Slytherin table, hoping to see the familiar sight of unruly black hair. Once Hermione had seen Malfoy enter the Great Hall she had expected to see Harry not long after.

Twenty minutes into lunch and she was still waiting.

“Still no sign of him?” Ron asked, craning his neck as he too, glanced up and down the table.

“No,” Hermione replied, a hint of worry in her tone. “Maybe he’s catching up on some work?”

“Well… I _guess_ he could be,” Ron agreed, half-heartedly. His gaze swept over the Slytherin table, hoping, like Hermione, to see his best mate—even if he was sitting with dirty Slytherins.

Ron’s eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Malfoy. There was something off about the blond; his smile was too forced as he conversed with Parkinson, his actions too deliberate. The female seemed to have guessed that something was wrong and was attempting to dig for details Ron was sure. The much too casual way Malfoy was brushing her off did not sit very well with Ron and a sinking feeling began to appear in his gut.

“I think we should head up to Gryffindor tower and see if Harry’s there,” he announced, turning to Hermione.

The brunette looked up from her untouched plate. She nodded immediately. “At least we’ll know then if he’s alright.”

 

* * *

 

Pansy frowned at her best friend.

Draco was acting extremely peculiar and it was worrying her. If they had been anywhere else right at that moment she would have demanded he tell her what was going on. Being stuck at the Slytherin table for lunch however, was the most frustrating experience Pansy had ever had to sit through.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she found herself asking.

Draco spared her a quick glance as he reached for the platter of sandwiches sitting before them. “Yes,” he replied, his gaze fixed determinedly on the roast beef sandwich in his hand.

Pansy’s frown grew. “I don’t like it when you lie to me,” she said in response, keeping her voice low.

“Well that would be a problem if I was actually lying then, wouldn’t it?” Draco took a bite of his sandwich, still refusing to meet her stare.

The female rolled her eyes with a gentle snort. “Fine,” she said, “but this isn’t over. You can pretend all you want that there is nothing wrong but get this—you’re not as good of a liar as you think you are.”

Draco remained silent.

 _You used to be so good at hiding your feelings…_ his subconscious murmured smugly. _Seems like Potter was able to wriggle his way in somehow and ruin that for you…_

Shoving the rest of his food into his mouth, Draco tried determinedly to drown out the voice in his head. Instead, he began to consider the possible ways he was going to explain everything to Pansy without her murdering him on the spot.

 

* * *

 

“Harry?” Hermione called, knocking on Harry’s bedroom door.

There was a brief pause of silence.

“I’m not… feeling well, Mione.” Harry’s voice was muffled through the wood as he replied. “Come back later?”

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked. “Do you need anything?”

Another moment of silence.

“I’ll be okay,” came Harry’s soft reply.

Hermione turned concerned eyes to Ron who was frowning at the door.

“You don’t think something happened between him and Malfoy do you?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied, just as softly. “I hope not.” She followed Ron back down the stairs, a niggling sense of concern refusing to go away.

Ron sat down on the arm of one of the squishy armchairs, the frown on his brow remaining as his gaze travelled back to the boys staircase.

 _If something_ has _happened between the two of them… that would explain why Malfoy looked so weird during lunch…_ Ron could feel anger beginning to bubble threateningly in his chest. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to march back up those stairs and demand Harry to tell him everything. If that blond prat had hurt his best friend, Ron was fully prepared to break a nose…

With a determined nod, Ron got to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked, worried.

“To find Malfoy,” Ron growled.

“Ron—Ron, wait,” Hermione said hurriedly, catching up to him before he could exit the portrait hole. “Just—don’t hurt him until we get the full story, alright?”

Ron snorted. “I’m not promising anything,” he said. “Look, Hermione, we were both wary about this happening. Harry is upstairs and although he’s not telling us, he obviously _miserable_. I’ll give the ferret the chance to explain but you know as well as I that the chance of this entire thing not being his fault is very slim.”

“You don’t know that,” Hermione said quietly, but her gaze wavered from his as she drew a breath.

 “Which is why I’m going to ask him before I hit him,” Ron promised with a grim smile. “There will be a good chance I punch him despite his explanation.”

Hermione sighed as she watched him leave, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

 

* * *

 

Ron marched down the corridor towards the dungeons. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get inside the Slytherin common without the password, but he was more than happy to bang on the bricks until someone answered him. He was about to turn the corner of the hallway when Ron suddenly stopped, hearing Parkinson’s voice. From the tone, easily recognised from the many time she’d used it on him, Ron could tell that whoever she was berating was getting a severe tongue-lashing.

“Well what the fuck were you _expecting_ to happen, Draco?!”

Ron’s heart thumped. Glancing around, he slid beside a nearby suit of armour and remained silent.

“If you weren’t so self-assured you would have been able to see that this was eventually going to happen,” Parkinson snapped. “How many times did I tell you?”

“I know, _I know_!” Malfoy retorted, an exasperated sigh exploding from his mouth. “You were right!”

“It’s all fine and dandy to admit that now,” Parkinson continued, “but all the good it’s going to do for you at the moment. _Merlin_ knows what Harry is feeling now—how could you do this to him, Draco?”

 _Damn fucking right_ … Ron thought with a silent nod.

“This isn’t what I wanted!” Malfoy snapped back angrily. “For fucks sake, Pansy… you know I never wanted this.”

Pansy choked a laugh. “Don’t forget your initial plan, you prat,” she replied snidely. “You were fully prepared to mess with Harry… you just never realised that you could potentially fall in love with him whilst doing so.”

There was a dead silence.

 _Holy shit…_ Ron’s eyes were wide as he stared at the brick wall. Realising suddenly that he was holding his breath, Ron steadily released it, not wanting to give away his hiding place.

“You’re a bloody idiot, Draco,” Pansy continued then, her tone slightly softer now, “and you better fix this, so help me.”

“Of course I want to fix this,” the blond replied, voice slightly shaky. “But I… I don’t know how. Harry won’t want to speak to me. How am I meant to make him see that I made a mistake?”

“By being honest with him, Draco. He can’t avoid you forever. You’ll get your chance to make things right,” Pansy said.

A million thoughts were buzzing through Ron’s mind. _Malfoy actually loved Harry… how did that even happen?!_

Lost as he was with the questions floating around his brain, Ron barely heard the oncoming footfalls of both Parkinson and Malfoy. With a start, he pressed himself silently against the bricks, praying to whoever was listening that the two Slytherins would not see him as they passed. Thankfully, neither of them noticed him hiding behind the suit of armour and Ron was able to gain a quick glance at the blond’s face.

He looked miserable.

 _Good,_ Ron thought savagely, _he deserves to feel bad, at least for a little while…_

 

* * *

 

“How’d it go? Did he truly hurt Harry on purpose? You didn’t hurt him did you?”

Hermione’s questions bombarded him as soon as Ron re-entered the Gryffindor common room.

“Calm down, Hermione,” Ron said. “No, I didn’t hurt him,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “God knows he needs a good smack but no, there were no punches exchanged.”

Hermione let out of deep breath. “Alright, well good. Does this mean it was a misunderstanding? What happened?”

“Truthfully, I never actually got the chance to talk to him,” Ron admitted, taking a seat on one of the armchairs. The common room was blissfully empty as he had left it, allowing him and Hermione to speak freely. “I found Parkinson having a go at him before I even got the chance.”

“Really?” Hermione asked in surprise, sitting beside him.

Ron nodded. “Yeah. Man, if I ever get on her bad side, I’m coming to you for protection, alright?”

Hermione flicked an impatient hand. “Tell me what happened,” she said instead.

“Turns out Malfoy did fuck around a little with Harry, but not on purpose. From what it sounded like, the ferret _started_ to mess around with Harry until he realised he actually liked him—how’s that for ironic?” Ron quirked a corner of his mouth into a half smirk. “He didn’t have the guts to admit it though—guess he thought he was in too deep or something. Harry obviously found out somehow and I guess now assumes that the slime ball did it all on purpose.”

“So… Malfoy really does care about Harry?” Hermione asked.

Ron nodded again. “Yeah… he actually does.”

“Thank god,” Hermione said, placing her head in her hands. “I really didn’t want to believe that Malfoy had messed with Harry on purpose. I mean… look at what we saw this morning, Ron. I’ve never seen Malfoy look so angry before and to actually _defend_ Harry…”

The room fell silent as the two of them sat and considered what to do next. Ron looked up at the boys staircase, wondering how he was going to approach the subject with his best mate. After all, this was all new ground for the two of them. They barely spoke about girlfriends let alone boyfriends, and neither of them had ever had a problem like this… least of all anything to do with Malfoy…

Ron sighed. “I guess I better go speak with him,” he announced.

“Should I come?” Hermione asked, watching him get to his feet.

Ron shook his head. “Let me have a go first, Mione,” he said. “Okay?”

She nodded, watching him cross the floor to the stairs. Ron climbed them apprehensively. He had no idea how he was going to handle this, he only hoped he wouldn’t say something stupid and make it the entire situation worse.

He raised a hand as he reached Harry’s door and, after a brief hesitation, knocked.

“Harry, mate, can I come in?” Ron asked through the wood.

“Yeah…” came Harry’s reply after a moment.

Ron entered Harry’s room, only slightly surprised to see all of the curtains drawn and the brunet lying in the middle of his bed in a miserable lump.

“Look, I’m going to be honest,” the red-head began, closing the door behind him. “I know that something happened between you and Malfoy.”

Harry turned his head, frowning at his best friend. “How do you know?” he asked, voice croaky.

“Well, aside from you hiding in your room in the dark sulking?” Ron replied with a crooked grin, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not sulking,” Harry moped, turning away from the red-head.

“Come on, mate, why else would you be in here.”

A sigh seeped from Harry. “Guess you were right,” he mumbled. “About Malfoy being a good for nothing dick.”

Ron chuckled. “As much as I wish I was right, I’ve come to defend the prat.”

Harry rolled back over, staring. Ron shrugged.

“I know I probably seem crazy right now…”

“You’re not wrong.”

Ron grinned in response. “Tell me what happened, mate.”

Harry stared at him for a few seconds more before dropping his gaze, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Ron was patient; he didn’t want to push Harry no matter how desperately he wanted to know.

“Basically,” the brunet began, shifting his stare to the ceiling, “I’ve been getting to know this guy over Tumblr all year. He was smart, funny… and just really nice to talk to.” Harry paused then, his eyes growing wistful; sad. “Turns out it was Malfoy all along, messing with me. I put up things on my blog that I didn’t expect any of you guys to see… let alone him.”

“How did you find out?” Ron found himself asking. “Did he tell you?”

The Gryffindor snorted. “Nope. After that thing with Nott this morning we went back to his room. Dr—Malfoy went into the bathroom while I moved his laptop from his bed. The website we both used was still up on his screen and I saw it. I saw his username and knew immediately it was the same person. When he came back from the bathroom I asked him about it but he wouldn’t answer me. So I left.” Harry clenched his eyes shut, pressing his hands to his face. “I feel like such an idiot, Ron.”

“Don’t,” Ron said quickly. “You didn’t know—how were you?”

“It’s not about that,” Harry replied quietly. “I should have known what we had was impossible. I should have known it wasn’t real…”

“Mate, come on…”

“Since he didn’t have the decency to admit what he was doing, what am I supposed to think, Ron? He’s lied to me since the first day we started talking. What am I meant to base our relationship on?”

Ron sighed gently, choosing his next words carefully. “Listen, why don’t you just talk to the bloke?” he suggested. “Get his side of the story? You may find out that he never meant for that to happen.”

Harry stared at his best friend. “Ron, why are you trying to fix this? You _hate_ Malfoy.”

Ron sighed and pushed a hand through his flaming red hair. “Because I really think the Ferret cares for you,” he admitted. “Sure the guy made a mistake—a _huge_ one—but don’t we all? I mean you’ve forgiven me quite a few times… it seems only fair you should forgive your—ugh dare I say it— _boyfriend_.”

Harry snorted but didn’t deny the statement. “This is different, Ron,” he said, lying back on his bed. “Draco _lied_ to me. You’ve never lied to me—in fact you’re usually too honest half the time.”

Ron looked over at the brunet, not believing he was about to admit what he’d heard. “Harry… I might have overheard Malfoy talking to Parkinson today.”

Harry lifted his head, a frown tugging at his brow. “So?”

“Well, the guy was really beat up about what he’d done. Parkinson was berating him of course—telling him that she had been right about you finding out and that it was his own fault—which I totally agree with,” Ron added hastily. “Don’t get me wrong I was waiting for Malfoy to slip up. But the reality is, he really likes you. Like, _likes-you-likes_ - _you_. I don’t think he was messing with you in the end. He made a mistake.”

The brunet stared at his best friend. “…why are you telling me all of this?” he asked softly.

Ron mumbled something that Harry didn’t quite catch.

“What?”

Ron groaned. “ _Because he makes you happy_ ,” he whined. “All he’s ever done for the past month or so is make you happy. ‘ _Draco this_ ’ and ‘ _Draco that_ ’… you light up when you talk about him, okay? And as much as I hate the prat… I really liked seeing you so happy for a change. If he’s the one doing then I say hold onto him… don’t let this ruin what you guys had.”

Harry let Ron’s words sink in. It was true, he had felt much happier since he and Malfoy had been seeing each other. The blond had made him feel things he’d never felt before, things that he wasn’t ready to let go of just yet. But the worry of the underlying deception haunted Harry. Malfoy may seem upset on the outside… but what was he truly feeling? He’d lied effectively for most of the year so far—what was stopping him from lying to Harry about how he felt?

“I’m going to need some time to think about this,” Harry said then. “Too much has happened today and I just… need time to process it all. Until then, I really don’t want to see him.”

Ron nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “Do you want me to fill Hermione in? You know she’ll be desperate to know.”

Offering a small smile, Harry nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.”

 

* * *

 

Draco hadn’t seen Harry for two days. He knew the brunet was avoiding him on purpose but _damn it_ how was he meant to make amends if he couldn’t catch the bloody idiot to apologise? Thankfully, Pansy had come to his rescue. The two, she and Harry, were still studying together and, although Harry absolutely refused to talk about Draco during study sessions, Pansy had been able to work out a time when Harry would be alone so he could speak with him privately.

Draco checked his watch. Potter would hopefully be coming around the corner any minute now. Pansy had kept them late at the library on purpose, allowing Draco the chance to nab the brunet on his way back to the Gryffindor common room.

Merlin, he felt like a giant mess. For the first time in his life Draco was honestly nervous about the upcoming conversation. He had barely slept the previous few nights, trying to formulate the right words in order to apologise. And now his conversation with the brunet was barely a minute away and Draco still wasn’t sure what on earth he was going to say—

Footsteps made him look up. Potter, who had evidently caught sight on him waiting in the deserted corridor, had turned on his heel and started back down the opposite direction.

 _It’s now or never_ …

 

* * *

 

“Potter—do you have a minute?”

Harry looked over his shoulder. Malfoy was walking down the corridor towards him, looking more dishevelled than Harry had ever seen him.

“I suppose so,” Harry replied, tonelessly. He’d hoped to avoid this. He was tired from studying so late with Pansy and as soon as he’d seen the blond in the hallway before him he’d turned away, hoping to escape before he was seen. Frustratingly his plan had failed.

 

* * *

 

“I just wanted to—to explain what happened. I didn’t mean—that is—I—” Frustration welled within Draco. _Why can’t I speak coherently? What the hell is wrong with me?_ He drew a breath. “Potter, the thing is—”

“Look, Malfoy, just… don’t.” Potter’s voice had suddenly become forlorn as he suddenly interrupted the blond. “I can’t… do this right now...” He turned away once more, stepping down the corridor.

“Harry—wait, _please_.”

The brunet halted, turning to stare at the Slytherin in surprise at the tone of desperation in Draco’s voice.

“Please let me explain myself,” Draco persisted. “I never meant for that to happen—”

A frown appeared on Potter’s face and Draco instantly knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“Never meant for that to happen?” Potter repeated, eyes alight with anger. “Draco, what the hell did you _think_ was going to happen?” The brunet ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Consider, just for a moment, how I am feeling. I feel thoroughly manipulated. I opened myself up to _you_ of all people and look where it got me! How can you expect me to believe that what we had was _real_ when you had been lying to me from the very beginning?”

“That’s what I’m _trying_ to _explain_ ,” the blond replied in frustration. “If you would just _listen_.”

Potter sneered. “Listen to what? You trying to make excuses for what you did? You’re not used to being in such a vulnerable state, Malfoy, and it’s getting to you,” he retorted waspishly. “What could you possibly say that could make this better? You could make up anything on the spot right now to try and convince me otherwise but at the end of the day, Draco, you’re just trying to make yourself feel better.”

Draco’s jaw clenched. “Yes,” he replied through gritted teeth, “I feel fucking awful. But, get this, I’m actually trying to make _you_ feel better, you prat.”

“Well you’re doing a _wonderful_ job of it, Malfoy.”

The blond inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. “Harry, listen… you know I’m not good at this sort of stuff—”

“ _Do_ I though?” the Gryffindor interrupted.

“If you would just let me—”

“Make up more lies?”

“For _fucks sake_ , Potter, will you just listen to me!”

“Why should I believe _anything_ you say?!”

The next words flew out of Draco’s mouth so fast he wasn’t aware of what he said until it was too late.

“Because I think I _love_ you, you idiot!”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another long hiatus that I am incredibly sorry for! I was so desperate to get this next chapter up and running that I'm not entirely sure about how good it is. I apologise if it's not up to my usual standard, my brain no-worky so well lately! Thank you for sticking with me this entire time! Yes, the story is finally coming to an end and I've had an absolute blast writing it. I hope you guys have enjoyed it just as much!

_“Because I think I_ love _you, you idiot!”_

Draco immediately blanched and withdrew the finger that had been pointing at Potter’s chest. Hand trembling slightly, the blond wrapped his arms around his stomach as a wave of unsettling insecurity crashed over him. His heart was thumping painfully in his chest as he forced himself to maintain eye contact with the brunet before him.

_Potter is going to tear you to pieces now…_

The corridor was filled with silence, something that was beginning to drive Draco insane. He felt as if he was going to be sick as he stared at the young man before him. Of all the confessions he could have shouted at the Gryffindor, his admission of love was the last he had expected to fall from his mouth. Draco was unable to ascertain how exactly the brunet was responding to this sudden news as the silence stretched into an agonising length. Then, just as Draco was about to lose his mind, the stillness was broken by Potter’s soft voice.

“You think or you do?” he asked then, observing Draco carefully.

The Slytherin drew in a breath. He swallowed.

“I do,” he murmured. “For a while now.” _Since I’m spilling my heart right here and now I might as well tell him everything…_ “Listen, Harry… I’m not very good at apologies but I’ll do my best. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t because I was trying to mess with you, I swear. Well, I was at first—but that was before Christmas… before I got to know you properly. I was genuinely surprised to discover that you truly weren’t who I expected you to be. The closer we became the more frightened I was of admitting it to you. Please don’t think that our time together has been a lie.”

There was still a hint of uncertainty on Potter’s face.

Draco cursed softly. “Potter, look. Would I be here right now, bearing my feelings and in a complete and utter mess because I wanted to continue to fuck with your head? There are only a few people I will allow to see me like this… and you’re one of them.”

Slowly, Potter’s face relaxed as understanding dawned over him.

“You’re such an ass,” he said, a hint of benevolence present in his tone.

“Agreed,” Draco replied, dropping his arms to his sides as his heart began to settle. Relief was sweeping through him, making him feel slightly lightheaded. “I was an idiot, I know that, but of all people I happened to fall for I wasn’t expected it to be you.”

The brunet snorted. “Go figure.”

The blond swallowed. _Guess it won’t hurt to continue this honesty thing…_ “This entire mess affected me more than I realised it would and I think that is the main reason why I refused to admit the truth about my blog. I had myself convinced that I wouldn’t care if you did find out… and yet all I’ve wanted to do since this fell apart was make it better. I felt awful knowing what I had done and what… what you might be feeling as a result. I—thank you for staying and hearing me out tonight, Harry. Really.”

“It wasn’t for the lack of trying,” Potter replied wryly. “Pansy would literally not shut the fuck up about the entire thing so to be fair she made me curious. Now I understand how she gets her way constantly.”

Draco smiled tentatively. “She’s the best friend you love to hate.”

The two young men laughed softly.

“Are we… alright now?” Draco found himself asking, surprising himself at how vulnerable he sounded.

The Gryffindor exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he replied truthfully. “I’m still coming to terms about a lot of things. I think I still need some time.”

As much as it pained Draco, the blond knew it was best. He couldn’t expect Potter to forgive him instantly regardless of his explanation and apology. Draco had betrayed the Gryffindor’s trust and it was time for him to earn it back.

So he nodded his agreement. “I understand,” he replied, noting the relief that passed over Potter’s face. “I’ll tell Pansy to back off.”

The Gryffindor smirked. “Much obliged.”

* * *

 “You spoke to Malfoy?” Ron asked, surprised.

Nodding, Harry plopped himself in the squishy armchair beside his best friend. It was the next morning and the red-head had been waiting for Harry before the two of them would head to breakfast. “I can only assume he and Pansy worked out a way to corner me—he was waiting for when I left the library last night.”

“Oh…” Ron stared at him. “So, how did it go?”

Harry smiled wryly. “It started how you would imagine, with us arguing,” he replied. “That was, of course, until he blurted out that he loved me.”

Ron’s eyes bulged. “He actually admitted it?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Harry immediately cottoned on, the brunet cocking his head to the side and a faint frown appearing on his face. “You knew?”

Ron winced. “Maybe.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It might have come up during the conversation I had overheard that afternoon between Parkinson and Malfoy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to freak you out,” Ron replied immediately. “You were hurting, mate… I wasn’t about to go and make it worse by telling you the guy who hurt you supposedly loved you. Besides, it wasn’t my place to go blabbing. Merlin knew whether or not Malfoy was just kidding himself, you know?” He offered an encouraging smile. “The Ferret should have been the one to tell you anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Harry sighed.

“What happened after he told you?” Ron continued.

Harry found himself shrugging. “I asked him if it was true. He said it was. Then he apologised.” His fingers began to fiddle with the hem of his left sleeve. “He seemed genuine but I…” he sighed forcibly all of a sudden, rubbing his face tiredly with his face. “It took me so long to completely trust Malfoy and in a blink of an eye it was broken. He may have not meant to hurt me in the end but the fact is he did. I’m finding myself hesitant to be comfortable with him again.”

“Even though he’s admitted he loves you?” the red-head asked curiously.

“Love means a different thing to different people.” Harry stared down at his hands. “But I’m not going to find out unless I give him a chance now, am I?” He smiled wryly at the male sitting beside him.

Ron gazed at Harry thoughtfully, understanding beginning to dawn over him as to why his best mate was struggling to accept Malfoy’s apology. The ferret had made a stupid mistake, this much was obvious, and yet Harry’s reaction to this entire situation had surprised him. Not that the brunet had had many relationships, but the few Ron remembered had never caused Harry to respond the way he was now. Harry had always remained distant when it came to intimacy, and although a lot of that could be linked to the fact that the brunet preferred males over females, Ron had already noticed the subtle differences in Harry’s relationship with Malfoy that explained Harry’s unexpected emotional upheaval.

Harry loved the ferret.

And Ron wondered if his best mate was aware of this fact.

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?” Harry frowned.

“Do you love him.”

Harry’s throat suddenly went dry, his jaw clenching as he looked away. “I don’t know,” he answered finally, voice soft. “I thought I did—do— _ugh_ , I just…”

“I get it,” the red-head reassured. “It’s not like you can really answer now since Malfoy went and fucked up the trust between you two.”

The brunet snorted a chuckle. “I guess it wouldn’t be right unless there was constant drama in my life.” He allowed his head to fall back against the back of the chair, his gaze on the ceiling. “That’s probably the reason why I do love the bloody idiot—the universe wouldn’t be happy if I’d fallen for someone normal.”

Ron grinned, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Think of it this way… you might want to decide quickly what with Valentine’s day around the corner and all.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ve managed to survive quite a few Valentines without someone.”

“Yeah but this year you’ll either have Malfoy or we can find you a better guy.” Ron frowned thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure I remember Neville talking about someone in Ravenclaw who had just come out—maybe we can hook you two up!”

The brunet groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Can we at least have breakfast before you start lining guys up for me to date?”

“Maybe we can make Malfoy jealous!”

“Hmm, some teasing probably wouldn’t hurt the bastard.”

* * *

 “Draco? Are you coming to breakfast?”

Pansy stuck her head around the door, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of her best friend lying fully dressed on his bed, staring at the canopy of his bed.

“Why are you lying in a miserable lump, Draco? You’ll wrinkle your uniform,” Pansy said, entering the room and closing the door behind her.

A sigh seeped out of the blond. “I’ve decided emotions are frustrating,” he replied, “and since I’ve never really be in this position before, I needed a moment to just… sulk.”

“That much is evident,” Pansy replied snidely, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

“My mind is at a loss,” Draco admitted. “I spoke to Potter, he seemed to accept my explanation but…” His voice trailed off.

“Things won’t immediately go back to how there were,” Pansy reminded him gently. “You apologised, Draco, there’s nothing more you can do. Give him the time he needs to adjust.”

The blond pressed his hands to his eyes as he groaned. “I know,” he whined, “but I actually miss him. This relationship shit is worse than I could have ever imagined. Why on earth did you allow me fall for Potter?”

Snorting, Pansy shoved her best friend. “This sulking business isn’t very becoming.”

“What if decides he wants nothing to do with me?” The blond turned to stare at her with dull grey eyes. His nose crinkled in disgust as he quickly shifted his gaze away. “Merlin listen to me; I sound like a love-sick Hufflepuff.”

“You _are_ love-sick,” Pansy commented, “but you forget. Potter was just as smitten with you as you are with him… I highly doubt that has changed.”

“Maybe this is for the best,” the blond continued, ignoring Pansy. “I really don’t think I could handle a situation like this ever again. If Potter decides months from now to break up with me I’m going to be inconsolable.”

The brunette stared derisively down at the blond. “How about you stop thinking about the unlikely future and focus on the present? Namely making it up to Harry before he really does decide he’s better off without you.”

Draco returned his gaze to hers. Pansy quirked an unimpressed eyebrow.

“You’re better than this, Draco,” she stated. “I know you’re not the best when it comes to being in the wrong but guess what—you fucked up. Now, you can either grow a pair and act like the strong male you are, or you can continue to wallow and give Potter no reason to ever desire you again. Frankly, if I were Potter, the way you’ve been sulking these past few days would have turned me off considerably.”

The blond blinked at the unexpected candour of Pansy Parkinson. The tiniest of smirks began to appear on his lips.

“What the hell would I do without you, Pans?” Draco sat up with fresh determination, eyes alight.

The female sitting beside him smiled with satisfaction. “Someone has to remind you who you are,” she replied. “Aren’t you lucky that I’m so considerate and kind?”

Draco choked on his laughter, earning himself a sneer from Pansy as she got to her feet. “I’ll take that as a sign that you do not wish for my assistance then,” she said with a derisive sniff. “If you’re not careful I’ll find someone else to hook Harry up with.”

The smile instantly dropped from the blond’s face. “You’ll do _no such thing_ ,” he snapped, standing.

* * *

 Rolling on his back, Harry sighed.

Sleep was evading him once again… and he knew the reason as to why.

He missed Malfoy, plain and simple. He missed the blond’s quips, his defiant smile, and his uncanny ability to read Harry like an open book. Most of all however, Harry missed Draco’s touch; the familiar press of warmth that he had become accustomed to in bed.

Reflecting on the conversation he and Malfoy had had the other night, Harry understood that the blond was truly sorry for what he had done. After all, it was completely out of Malfoy’s nature to be as accommodating as he had been, and the mere fact that the blond was out of sorts over his mistake was evidence enough for Harry.

Turning his head, Harry gazed through the frosty window. It was a clear night and the stars sparkled soothingly across the vast darkness. Staring at the twinkling lights, Harry mused. He supposed he should forgive Draco… if his yearning to be intimate with the Slytherin was anything to go by. That wasn’t to say he was going to let the blond off easy, however. If Draco was genuine about fixing what they had once had, he was going to have to work for it.

Harry wanted this to be a sincere relationship... and he was going to prove to Malfoy exactly how seriously he was going to take this.

* * *

 “Would it make you uncomfortable if I invited Draco and Granger to join us for our study session?” Pansy asked, eyeing the Gryffindor standing across from her carefully.

The brunet glance down the corridor where the rest of the class was filing out of their Transfiguration classroom. The familiar bushy-haired head of his best friend was speaking with Malfoy, evidently discussing their own potential study session.

“No, it’s alright,” Harry finally answered, returning his gaze to the female. “Is this your way of getting Malfoy and I back to together?”

Pansy shrugged. “You guys have to start somewhere, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“Think of it this way: how are you going to know whether or not you still feel the same way about Draco if you’re nowhere near him?”

“Fair enough,” Harry replied, a small smile appearing on his lips. “Damn you and your logic.”

The Slytherin grinned and Harry followed her down the corridor to where the other pair were still standing.

“You guys going to the library to study as well?” Pansy asked, somewhat innocently.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Pans, you can drop the act,” he replied. “All four of us know exactly what you’re doing.”

Hermione smiled tentatively at Harry who quirked an eyebrow.

“Have you been conniving with Slytherins again, Mione?” the brunet asked.

“Maybe?” She grinned. “Come on, we’re wasting valuable study time.”

Sharing a look with Pansy, who seemed rather smug at that moment, Harry followed the others through the castle to the library. The four of them settled themselves down at a hidden desk, the two females placing themselves in such a way that forced Malfoy and Harry to sit facing one another. Noticing this immediately, the blond rolled his eyes, bumping not so inconspicuously into Pansy on his way passed.

“So immature, Draco.” Pansy sniffed.

Aside from a small smile on his lips, the blond said nothing in reply but sat down elegantly in the seat opposite Harry, pulling out his textbooks and parchment. Harry noticed that Malfoy kept his gaze casually averted from his, and he wondered if it was because the blond was nervous.

_Malfoy…? Nervous…? That’d be the day…_

Hiding a grin, Harry began to rummage in his bag, retrieving his unfinished Transfiguration assignment and a quill. He had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get much work done however—especially when Malfoy threw a dazzling smile at Pansy after he’d stolen her quill.

Shifting slightly in his seat, Harry tried his best to shove all thoughts of Malfoy from his head and instead attempted to focus on his homework.

_Let’s see how long I last…_

 

 

“You guys have to go already?” Hermione asked, frowning slightly as Malfoy and Pansy packed up their things.

“Have to see Professor Snape,” Pansy said in reply. “But we’ll do this again soon.”

“I’ll email you, Granger,” Malfoy said, nodding in her direction.

“Alright,” Hermione agreed. “Have a good afternoon.”

“Let me know when you’re free next, Harry,” Pansy said, hitching her bag strap up onto her shoulder.

The brunet nodded. “Will do,” he replied. His gaze drifted over to Malfoy briefly before he dropped it to the desktop. So busy were the thoughts in his head, Harry missed the look Pansy and Hermione shared before the two Slytherins left.

“So?”

“So, what?” Harry’s head snapped up. Hermione was staring at him knowingly.

“You and Draco—do you think you guys will be able to work it out?”

Harry allowed his eyes to move off of his best friend’s face to the retreating back of a particular blond Slytherin.

“Not sure,” he lied.

One thing had become evident from their study session.

Harry was still head-over-heels for Draco Malfoy.

* * *

 It was Friday morning and Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table gazing thoughtfully across the Great Hall when Ron found him. Following his best mate’s stare, the red-head snorted as he realised the object of Harry’s fascination.

“So, you going to tell him?” Ron said, sitting beside the brunet and raising a sceptical eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“Come on, mate, you were staring at Malfoy again. I think it’s painfully obvious that you miss him.”

Harry expelled a sigh, reaching for some pumpkin juice. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I do. I was just wondering if I’ve let him stew long enough or not.”

Chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast, Ron frowned. “How long has it been?”

“About a week.”

“And what have you guys done within that time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well how often have you seen each other? I know you guys studied the other day.”

“Pretty much only that,” Harry replied with an offhanded shrug. “I didn’t want to make it too easy for him so I’ve tried to avoid him whenever I could.”

“Make him freak?” Ron grinned. “Good. Well, mate, I think he’s been tortured pretty thoroughly if that’s the case.”

Harry nodded absentmindedly in agreement, unable to stop himself from looking over once more at the Slytherin table. A familiar dark-haired female caught his gaze, cocked an eyebrow and glanced fleetingly at the blond beside her. Harry inclined his head minutely, watching as Pansy then turned to Malfoy, asking him a question Harry couldn’t hear. He saw Malfoy nod and the two of them stood, making their way from the Great Hall.

“Gotta go, Ron,” Harry said, getting to his feet and grabbing his bag.

“Yeah, yeah, I figured.” The red-head grinned.

Harry offered a brief smile and hurried after the pair of Slytherins. He slipped passed students milling in the Entrance Hall, catching sight of Malfoy and Pansy as they started for the staircase.

Harry paused.

 _It was now or never_ …

“Malfoy,” he called, “do you have a minute?”

The blond turned around, a hint of bewilderment evident on his face for a mere moment before it was masked. He nodded. Harry cocked his head to the side, indicating to the other male that he wanted them to speak alone. Taking the hint, Pansy turned away and continued up the stairs, a small smile on her face. Malfoy, who was gazing at Harry curiously, followed the brunet without a word until they were safely hidden from prying eyes and ears.

“Look, Malfoy…” Harry began.

The blond suddenly sighed. “It’s alright, Harry, I understand,” Malfoy said, cutting Harry off. “I know what you’re going to say and it’s… it’s alright. I had imagined something like this was going to happen and I can’t say I blame you.”

Harry stared at the blond in disbelief. _Malfoy actually believes I’ll never forgive him…_

“What I did was stupid and as much as I desire for things to be different—”

“Draco,” Harry stated, causing the blond to halt mid-sentence. “Shut up.” He reached forward, grabbed the Slytherin’s robes and tugged the male towards him, pressing a kiss onto Malfoy’s lips.

With a startled gasp, Malfoy pulled away to stare at the brunet in surprise. “Are—are you sure?” he asked, uncertainty in his voice.

“Positive,” Harry replied, his gaze falling to the Slytherin’s lips. “Neither of us are saints and you’ve more than made up for your mistake. Truthfully, I’ve missed you.”

All the tension seemed to seep out of the blond, his eyes softening slightly. Then a familiar sneer began to curl at his lips.

“I can’t believe you made me wait for an _entire week_ ,” Malfoy said haughtily.

Harry grinned. “I couldn’t resist making you suffer. Plus, you deserved it,” he replied. “Consider the agony you were in for the past week whenever you think about lying to me in the future.”

“And to think that I actually _missed_ you.”

“The feeling is mutual, believe me,” Harry replied. “I couldn’t resist messing with you a little.” His grin grew as the blond pushed him up against the brick wall, his silver eyes bright as they fell to Harry’s mouth.

“Don’t ever tease me like that again,” Malfoy growled possessively.

Harry welcomed the way the blond pressed against him. “Then don’t give me a reason to,” he replied, voice slightly breathy. His lips parted immediately as Draco’s mouth descended onto his, eyes drifting shut as the blond’s familiar tongue swept enticingly, demanding entrance. The pent up desire that had been driving the two of them to the brink over the past few days suddenly erupted and Harry’s hands moved, touching the blond wherever he could.

Malfoy’s hands were just as busy. One was curled delicately on the side of Harry’s neck, his fingers stroking the brunet’s nape while his thumb caressed the strong curvature of Harry’s jawline. The other was busy pulling the Gryffindor as flush against him as he could, wanting—no, _needing_ —to feel every inch of Harry.

 _Holy fuck I’ve missed this…_ the brunet thought blissfully.


	23. Chapter 23

Class was over and the corridor was dark as Harry walked side by side with Malfoy to the Slytherin dormitory. The brunet hadn’t hesitated when Malfoy invited him to his room after Charms, yet with each step that drew them closer to the green and silver dungeons, a strange feeling began to settle in Harry’s chest. The feeling strengthened as Harry followed the blond into his bedroom, watching as Malfoy crossed to the bed, unclipping his robes as he did so and throwing a look over his shoulder. A single, sleek blond eyebrow quirked upwards.

“Enjoying the doorway are you, Potter?” the blond asked with a small smirk, draping the dark fabric over the back of his desk chair.

Harry stepped inside and shut the door behind him, wishing he could shove whatever this feeling was aside. As he gazed across the room to the Slytherin who sat gracefully on the edge of his bed, Harry couldn’t help but muse over how easily they had slid back into old habits. As if nothing had ever changed. The previous Friday morning had been wonderful—perfect even; Harry had been sure everything was going to be alright between the two of them.

Or so he thought.

Despite knowing how much he stilled cared for the blond, how much he’d _missed_ his company… there was still a part of Harry that was not entirely comfortable with how things had come to be. There were moments, brief although they may be, where Harry found himself battling with a sudden surge of anger and despair.  And he wasn’t entirely sure as to why that was.

_Am I just processing what happened? Maybe the stress of school is getting to me…?_

“As much as I always enjoy you staring at me, Harry, I think I would prefer to be kissing you right now.”

The brunet shook himself from his thoughts, a wry grin spreading across his face as he neared the bed, loosening his school robes as Malfoy had done. “Sorry, I think Flitwick’s lesson did away with my brain.”

A wicked smile twisted at Draco’s lips.

“Don’t even start,” Harry interrupted quickly, pegging the blond with a glare.

“Fine.” Grey eyes dropped to the undone buttons on Harry’s robes. “Then allow me to finish what you started.” He tugged the black fabric from Harry’s shoulders and the Gryffindor felt the material pool around his legs. His gaze, however, was locked directly on Malfoy’s, who was staring at him with unhidden desire.

Long, pale fingers curled into his school tie, tugging him towards the bed until he was kneeling on the mattress betwixt Draco’s thighs. The smirking male’s other hand slid up Harry’s chest, wrapping around the back of his neck to draw his head downwards, eyes drifting to the brunet’s mouth. At the first press of Draco’s lips against his, Harry allowed his eyes to fall closed, forcing himself to sink within the heat that was slowly growing within him.

_I want this…_ Harry thought. _I do—I really do…_

He moved his hands to gently cup Malfoy’s jaw, fingers sliding over the warm, delicate skin as the kiss deepened. He didn’t protest when he felt Malfoy move him, their lips breaking their connection momentarily as Harry was lain back against the duvet, the blond swiftly positioning himself above and reclaiming the brunet’s mouth. Harry’s fingers delved into soft blond strands, eliciting an appreciative moan from the Slytherin who nipped at Harry’s lower lip playfully. He sucked the abused flesh, running his tongue in a soothing manner before he left Harry’s mouth altogether, Malfoy’s lips trailed bruising kisses over the brunet’s jaw and down his neck.

“I can’t believe we went an entire week without this,” Malfoy moaned, teeth scraping mercilessly down Harry’s throat.

The brunet’s breath caught at the sensation despite a niggling sense of frustration worming its way into his consciousness.

_Maybe if you hadn’t fucked with me we wouldn’t have needed the break…_ he thought sourly.

The thought disappeared fleetingly as the Slytherin above him grinded his very obvious erection against Harry’s hip and Harry, who had tried to swallow and gasp at the same time, ended up choking in response, earning him a delightful chuckle from Malfoy.

“Am I that good, Potter?” he murmured as he began to loosen the brunet’s tie.

“Maybe I put it on for you, Malfoy,” Harry retorted.

The blond chuckled again, his tongue trailing languidly along Harry’s collarbone. While he marked the boy beneath him with his teeth, his hand glided with purpose down the brunet’s torso, stopping only when he reached his goal. Beneath him, Harry keened as the blond gripped his hard cock through his trousers, rubbing the throbbing erection with a seductive chuckle.

“Glad to see this still works,” Draco murmured against the brunet’s skin.

Harry huffed. “You’re such a fu— _ugh_.” He groaned, thrusting involuntarily as the Slytherin gripped him once more. His chest heaved, pants falling from his lips and he watched, following the skilful fingers as they unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, slipping inside to stroke teasingly at his cock through the material of his boxers. He had to compel the whimper back down his throat when Malfoy unexpectedly sucked on the pulse point on his neck. Instead, he tangled his fingers back into blond strands, forcing Draco’s mouth back to his own. He thrust his tongue into the Slytherin’s mouth, kissing him hungrily as the pressure on his cock grew until he was panting into Draco’s mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he gasped, back arching.

“Maybe later,” the blond purred, littering placating kisses down the brunet’s jaw. “For now…” He began to move, shifting down the length of the Gryffindor until his mouth hovered over the straining erection poking through the gap in Potter’s trousers, still restrained by red satin. He mouthed the stiff cock, enjoying the way Harry writhed and gasped beneath him. The brunet’s fingers were still tangled in his hair and Draco enjoyed the way they tightened with each sucking kiss Draco applied to the sensitive area.

“P— _Please_ , Draco,” Harry moaned. “Oh, god—you’re s-such a tease.”

The blond chuckled in his throat, pausing in his ministrations to look up the length of the male beneath him. Harry’s cheeks were flushed, eyes dark pools of arousal. Slowly, _achingly_ slowly, Draco hooked his fingers beneath the hem of the brunet’s boxers and leisurely dragged them down, allowing Harry’s impatient cock to spring from its confinement. Draco eyed Potter’s erection hungrily, smirking at the precome already leaking from the tip. He swiped his tongue across the head of Harry’s cock, relishing in both the taste and the way the brunet gasped, hips jerking off the mattress. The whimper that he had forced down previously broke free, fingers trembling as they stroked through the blond’s hair. And finally, _oh god finally_ , Draco’s warm mouth enveloped him, swallowing him right down to the root. A breath caught in Harry’s throat, eyes rolling back at the delicious movement of the Slytherin’s mouth up and down his erection.

Draco’s own cock throbbed at the way his Gryffindor undulated on the bed. Merlin, it had only been a week and yet it felt like months. Draco hadn’t realised just how accustomed he had become to the closeness he and Potter had shared—how much he had taken the time they had had together for granted. Here now, undoing the Golden Boy simply with his mouth, Draco was thankful he had not lost Harry altogether because of his foolishness.

Another whimper from Harry caused Draco’s cock to twinge again. God, he was ridiculously hard just from listening to the beautiful sounds the brunet made. Reaching down, his quickly unbuttoned his own trousers, hand diving quickly beneath his boxers to grip his own erection. He moaned around Potter’s cock, causing the brunet to jerk. Draco stroked himself with each bob of his head, taking Potter’s erection deeper each turn. The Gryffindor was emitting delicious gasps and pleading moans, his fingers tightening in Draco’s hair to the point of pain.

“ _Dr—Draco—_ ”

_Merlin, I love the way he says my name…_ Draco thought possessively, his cock throbbing excitably in his hand. _So full of need. Need for_ me…

The blond hollowed his cheeks as he withdrew to the tip, tongue flicking out teasingly. The fingers on his free hand skimmed lightly across the skin on the brunet’s abdomen, gentle caresses that caused shivers to course through the Gryffindor. Pleads fell from his lips— _so—so close…_

Draco swallowed him again, his throat accepting Harry’s cock readily as he buried his nose to nestle in the dark hair at the root.

He hummed and that was Harry’s undoing.

With a great arch and a cry, the brunet came. Thick shoots of come poured down Draco’s throat and the blond accepted it all. He swallowed greedily, his tongue swirling around the slowly softening cock as he raised his head, Harry’s hands falling from his hair and onto the bedspread. With a provocative _pop_ , the brunet’s cock fell from the Slytherin’s sinful mouth and onto his stomach, satisfied and sated. Draco was still working his own burning cock with his fist and he swung his gaze up to Harry’s form lying so wantonly. The boy lay with his eyes closed, chest rising and falling erratically; there was something so debauched about the Gryffindor lying in his dishevelled uniform, cock only free through the gap in his trousers.

 “ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed.

With a groan, Draco came. Sticky warmth spread through his fingers, trapped within his palm and his undergarments. Panting, the blond withdrew his now come-coated hand, casting a quick cleansing charm over both himself and Harry. He tucked Potter’s now flaccid cock back into his boxers before lowering his head onto the brunet’s stomach, closing his eyes. From above, Harry drew in a steadying breath, a tentative hand coming to rest on the nape of Draco’s neck in a somewhat soothing manner.

As the golden warmth of their post-coital glow began to fade, a fresh sense of discomfort made an appearance. Draco’s fingers were lazily stoking Harry’s hip and Harry suddenly wished he would stop. The very idea that the blond could even be so at ease with him so soon after the incident baffled the dark-haired male. He had expected that the blond might have been more apologetic, careful even, in his approach to Harry. The blond had admitted how distraught he had been over the pain he had caused Harry and yet here they were, literally acting as if never had been occurred.

It made Harry feel… weird. As if there was something unfinished.

_Does Draco even fully understand the pain he caused me…? Or did he just miss the intimacy…?_

With a frustrated frown, the brunet worried his lip as he stared up at the dark stone ceiling. _Am I just overthinking things…? Am I so ready to believe Draco would mess with me that when he did fuck up—that’s it? I’m done? Because that’s… that not what I want…_

The strokes on the back of the blond’s neck became surer; he’d missed the feel of Draco’s skin.

_Maybe I just need more time…_ Harry considered. _Maybe the more time I spend with Malfoy the better I’ll feel about the entire thing…_

Even as the thought settled in Harry’s head, the reminder that Malfoy was still stroking his hip sent another wave of annoyance coursing through him. Perhaps now was not the time to test that theory. Harry was obviously still upset about something—it might not even have anything to do with Draco! Maybe he was just tired; stressed from school. It was probably best that Harry head back to his own dormitory.

The blond inhaled deeply, his fingers stilling on Harry’s skin as he lifted his head. Gazing up at the male lying so tantalising beneath him, Draco opened his mouth, an invitation to stay the night on his lips when the brunet beat him to it.

“I can’t stay,” Potter murmured softly, reaching to brush a lock of blond hair behind Draco’s ear.

The Slytherin frowned, quirking his head. “Why not?”

A bemused smile appeared on Harry’s face. “I have things I need to do.”

“More important things than _me?_ ”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Draco gazed at the male, noting the faint hesitance in the usually honest green eyes. Instead of the sly comments he yearned to say, Draco simply allowed a small smile to grace his lips.

“Alright,” he said softly. He slid up the rest of the way to kiss the brunet gently. “Maybe some other time.”

Harry only smiled in response before he was moving, shifting himself from beneath the blond. Draco leant back on his side, watching the Gryffindor as he straightened his clothes, pulled on his robes, and fetched his bag. He was sure to remove the look of concern on his face when Harry turned to say his goodbyes, the brunet flashing him an impish grin as he disappeared out the door. As soon as the wood closed with a snap, Draco’s face dropped, his jaw clenching as suspicions began to make themselves known.

_Seriously, you’re not surprised, are you…?_ His subconscious hissed. _That Harry could honestly forgive you that easily…?_

A sigh seeped out of Draco, shaking his head bitterly as he looked up at the ceiling. _I knew it had been too good to be true…_

A quick knock on his door had him lifting his head. Scenarios of Harry returning, apologising for his weird behaviour filled his mind before the door opened, Pansy’s familiar face appearing and immediately dashing Draco’s aspirations.

“Just saw Harry leave,” she stated, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively as she bounded across the room to sit on the edge of the blond’s bed. “So everything is back to normal then?” She grinned.

As much as Draco wanted to grin and laugh and agree with Pansy, he found that he couldn’t.

“Well?” Pansy pressed, gazing expectantly at the blond.

“I think…” Draco began, his thoughts swirling in his mind, “that as much as Harry says we’re alright now… deep down I’m not entirely sure he has forgiven me.”

The brunette frowned, tilting her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Harry isn’t exactly the best at hiding his feelings,” Draco continued. “And from what I can gather, it seems that a lot of what he was feeling when he told me he had forgiven me might have been based on cravings, rather than the honest consideration that he should have been doing.”

“You think Harry is messing with you?” Pansy frowned worryingly.

Draco shook his head. “I believe he is deluding himself that he is alright with what I did. He wants to okay, he tries to be accommodating, but there are moments when it is painfully obvious that he is not happy.”

“Well… what are you going to do about it then?” the brunette questioned.

The blond frowned, staring at a spot on his bedspread. _What_ could _he do…? Until Harry admitted his feelings, it was hard for Draco to understand where to even begin._

He shrugged.

“I may be overthinking it, Pans,” he admitted. “I mean, you said it yourself, didn’t you? Things weren’t going to go immediately back to the way they had been.”

Pansy felt her frown deepen. “Yes, and that is understandable. However, Harry said he forgave you. He’s obviously made the decision that despite what you did, he has deemed it worthy of forgiving and forgetting. Since you’re lying here rather dishevelled, I can only imagine what the two of you got up to just then. Is that not an indication of his trust in you? If he’s acting strangely, perhaps he made the decision about your relationship too hastily.”

Draco hummed absently in agreement.

“In any case, it appears you two have something to discuss.” Pansy got to her feet, smoothing down her robes. “I’ll be here if you need some advice but it will ultimately be up to you and him to fix.”

Snorting, the blond rolled his eyes. “ _Obviously_ , Pansy.”

The female simply smirked. She turned towards the door, crossing the carpet smoothly. “Things will be alright, Draco.”

Draco watched her leave, a sigh escaping his lips. _Guess we’ll see._

* * *

 

Harry all but glared down at his laptop. As much as he wished it would, his laptop unfortunately did not hold the answers to his dilemma. Harry was torn. He wanted to see Draco. He wanted to constantly be near Draco. God, he wanted the intimacy with Draco more than anything else.

And yet.

There was a bitterness within the brunet he could not ignore. The two of them had been jubilant the day they reconciled. Everything had been like it was; no anger, no distrust. Just them. Until Harry realised just how upset he still was with the Slytherin.

And there Draco was, sharing smirks and quips, touching the brunet, speaking to him, acting as if nothing had happened. And it _angered_ Harry. If Draco had been _so_ torn about the entire ordeal how was it that it was so easy for him to return to acting normally? Fuck, Harry almost did not want to give Malfoy the satisfaction of their relationship returning to normal so efficiently.

“Studying all alone, Potter?”

The brunet jumped, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “Oh, hey,” he greeted absently. “Erm—studying?” He looked down at his laptop. “Sort off—just editing an essay.”

“Indeed.” Malfoy lowered himself into the chair across the desk from Harry, eyeing the boy carefully and noting the way Potter hesitated to meet his gaze. “Would you like me to look over it for you?”

“Hmm?” the brunet quirked his head, barely flicking his eyes up to Malfoy’s face before they were back on the laptop screen. “No, that’s alright. Thanks though.”

Thin lips pressed into a straight line, grey eyes narrowing slightly. As much as Draco would have preferred to ask the brunet if everything was alright, he did not particularly wish to have that conversation in the middle of the library. There was definitely something off with the Gryffindor—that much was evident—but why couldn’t Harry just be _honest_ with him about it?

“Feel free to email it to me if you change your mind,” the blond said instead.

Harry pushed a hand through his hair, offering a crooked smile as he glanced at Malfoy again. The Slytherin was staring at Harry oddly, unasked questions evident in his gaze. Harry hastily dropped his eyes back to his computer. Abruptly, Harry felt the need to leave. He wasn’t sure what it was but he felt crowded by the blond all of a sudden, and really, _really_ was not prepared to discuss whatever it was Harry was feeling about this entire situation. God, he hardly knew what was wrong himself. Reaching forward, Harry lowered his laptop screen, a faint frown on his face as he stared at the silver sheen, so reminiscent of Draco’s eyes. He stroked the smooth plastic distractedly as he reached for his bag, plonking it onto the table.

The Slytherin frowned. “You’re leaving?”

“I promised Ron we’d start our Charms homework together,” the Gryffindor replied, hurriedly shoving his laptop and books into his bag. He paused briefly. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Alright…” the blond conceded slowly, a faint frown tugging at his brow. _One moment Harry doesn’t want to be near me, the next he’s making plans to get together…?_

“I’ll come by around eight,” Harry concluded, buckling his bag closed.

“You’ll stay?” Draco found himself asking.

The brunet seemed to mull the question for a moment, before he gave the blond a gentle smile. “Yeah,” he answered.

* * *

 

His eyebrows tugged together in a faint frown as Draco woke to an empty bed. He stretched his hand across the mattress in search for Harry’s usual warm body but found empty sheets.

That were cold.

Blinking blearily, Draco peered drowsily around the room, wondering if Harry was in the bathroom. The door was ajar and the room dark, indicating that the brunet had not sneaked off for an early shower.

_What the hell…?_

Pale hands rubbed at his face as Draco sat up, duvet pooling in his lap. Had Potter seriously taken off without so much as a goodbye or morning hand-job? Okay, well, maybe not necessarily a hand-job per say, but a _good-fucking-morning_ was usually in their a.m. ritual; it was not like the brunet to dine-and-dash as it were.

_What the fuck is he playing out?_ Draco thought grouchily, fumbling for his wand to cast a _tempus_.

6:25.

“Is he for _real?_ ” The blond sneered at the empty space beside him.

This was getting ridiculous. Whatever it was that Draco had done to annoy Potter it was high time the brunet faced the problem and dealt with it. As it were, the hole that Potter was digging himself in was getting deeper, and Draco was beginning to consider leaving him in it.

With a groan, Draco thumped his head back against his pillow, rubbing his eyes.

_Calm the fuck down, you twat…_ his subconscious stated bossily. _You’re tired and overreacting. Potter may have a very good reason for leaving as early as he did without so much as a goodbye…_

Draco snorted. Sometimes he wondered whether or not his subconscious was being helpful or just deepening his insecurity. In any case, there was no point in dwelling in upsetting assumptions. Despite his suspicions, until the truth was revealed, the blond would not have a clear indication as to the intentions behind Potter’s latest actions.

But it was time to find out.

* * *

 

By lunch time, Draco knew without a doubt that Harry was avoiding him.

_Again_.

Glancing in annoyance across the Great Hall, the blond noted the way the brunet had placed himself with his back to the Slytherin table, giving him the perfect excuse not to meet Draco’s gaze. It was such a small thing but Draco knew that Harry had positioned himself in such a manner on purpose. Perhaps he thought Draco wouldn’t notice—yet how could Draco not when he had become so accustomed to staring across the hall at the familiar pair of green eyes for the past seven years?

_This ends tonight_ … Draco thought vehemently.

* * *

 

“I need to talk to you,” Malfoy stated.

Harry glanced longingly up the staircase. He had hoped to escape to his dormitory before Malfoy hunted him down. No such luck.

“Now?” Harry asked wearily.

“ _Now_.” The blond gestured towards the dungeons in an obvious indication for Harry to follow him.

Clenching his jaw, Harry fell into step beside the Slytherin. He remained silent the entire journey to the blond’s bedroom. He hovered uncertainly just inside the doorway, frowning at the blond who stalked across the room in an obviously aggravated manner, tossing his robes inelegantly onto his bed as if they were the source of his frustration.

Harry released an irritated sigh. “Look, I’ve got a bunch of assignments I need to finish, I really don’t have time—”

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, knock it off,” Draco snapped, his anger getting the better of him.

Potter gaped at him. “What’s got your knickers in a knot?” he replied.

“ _You_.”

“Me? What the hell have I done?”

The Slytherin snorted, shaking his head in disbelief at the poor manner in which Harry attempted to hide his contrition.

“You’ve been acting like a complete arse, Harry,” Draco replied. “I don’t know what the hell I’ve done to deserve this treatment but it _stops now_.  I am not going to stand around and allow you to continue fucking with me.”

Potter spluttered indignantly. “I’m not fucking with you!” he protested, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Indeed? So that hasn’t been you avoiding me for the past two days. Or you ducking out early with some ridiculous excuse every time we’ve been together. Not to mention the absurd way in which you have been avoiding even _looking_ at me whenever we’re within close proximity?”

“Would you just tell me what you want already?” Potter questioned impatiently, jerking his arms into a defensive fold against his chest.

“I want you to be _honest with me_!” Draco shouted. “And _honest with yourself_!” He stared at the brunet, frustration washing through him at the confusion growing on Harry’s face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Gryffindor replied obtusely.

“You’re not happy,” Draco snapped, “and as much as you try to convince yourself otherwise, you haven’t truly forgiven me for lying to you. Stop acting like an ignorant Gryffindor for once!”

He could only stare in brewing irritation at the male before him. Potter continued to gaze at Draco as if he’d gone mad, his usually honest green eyes darkened with defiance. Draco could feel his patience slipping, and he allowed a derisive sneer to curl at his lips.

“Deny all you want, Harry,” the blond stated, “but I can read you better than anyone and you fucking know it. Stop behaving like a repugnant child.”

The dark-haired male swallowed, the fight slowly draining out of his stiff posture. Draco watched with a small sliver of satisfaction as his words hit their mark; it was time for Harry to face the truth.

“I—” Harry’s face suddenly fell, his arms folding defensively as he seemed to shrink in on himself. “I had hoped that the more time I spent with you… pretending everything was alright… that I would begin to believe it.”

The blond released a frustrated sigh. “You can’t just _force_ something like this, Harry. You’re not only hurting yourself but you’re hurting _me_. _I_ was willing to wait. I knew very well how much I had hurt you and I wanted to give you enough time until you were ready to make a decision. And there you were, barely a week later, saying you missed me… that you had _forgiven_ _me_.”

“I thought I had,” Harry murmured, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I thought everything was going to be fine.”

“Well guess what, it’s not.” The blond’s stare was cold, tone becoming dismissive. “I’m beginning to think this entire—” he swept a derisive hand between them dismissively, “—relationship was a mistake.”

“You’re right,” the brunet murmured softly, glancing at the ground.

“I—what?” Draco stilled, his eyes on Harry. The room suddenly seemed impossibly silent. “You… agree that this was a mistake?”

“No!” Harry replied quickly, head snapping up to look at the blond. “No, you were right about me being ignorant… about me trying to force this and hurting you. I think…” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, wincing as his gaze dropped back to the carpet. “I think, subconsciously, I wanted to hurt you as you had hurt me.” The brunet suddenly flinched, agony swimming in his green eyes as he stared at Draco, his face paling at his own admission. “But that—fuck—that’s not—” Harry stumbled over his words, his stomach rolling unpleasantly. “God that makes me sound like such a vindictive bastard.” He ran a trembling hand through his hair, turning away from the blond. “Look, I’m sorry—I’ll just—”

His hand fumbled with the doorknob, trembling fingers wrapping around the cool metal and twisting. Before Harry could leave however, he felt himself being spun around, his back shoved against the wood of the door as cool, hard grey eyes bored down at him. He stared meekly in response, unable to read the expressionless mask on Malfoy’s face as his heart thudded painfully in his chest. The blond’s hands were gripping his shoulders, forcibly holding him order to prevent Harry from fleeing. And, oh god, Harry so much wanted to run. After everything that had happened between them, he knew it was going to break his heart to have the blond be disgusted in his actions. But how could Harry blame him? Draco had every right to detest him…

Slowly, surprisingly, Draco’s face began to relax, his gaze acquiring a searching glimmer as he stared at the brunet, eyebrow quirking slightly.

“You’re so Gryffindor that even the Slytherin-tendencies you display at times get buried beneath ridiculous lion-chivalry,” the taller-man stated derisively.

Harry felt a frown tug at his brow, words failing him. What on earth was Draco talking about?

A sigh seeped out of the blond, his hand moving from the grip he’d maintained on Harry’s shoulder to his cheek. Cautious hope trickled into the brunet’s chest at the familiar touch of Malfoy’s fingers, the strokes on his skin soothing his panic.

“Any Slytherin would have done exactly what you admitted, Harry,” Draco said. “Except they would have done it on purpose—and with a severe lack of honesty. We don’t handle betrayal well and when given the chance, of course we’d return the favour. I don’t blame you in the least for feeling the way you do.”

Harry’s frown deepened. “Doesn’t that completely disregard the entire point of forgiveness?” he murmured. “I said I forgave you… and yet I subconsciously wanted to hurt you. You should loathe me.”

Malfoy inclined his head in understanding. “To be fair, I shouldn’t have completely relied on your Gryffindor naivety,” he replied with a wry smile. “Getting hurt by someone you care about is painful and, commonly, unforgivable. I broke your trust and I hurt you. Imagine my surprise when but a week later you had ‘forgiven’ me? Instead of suggesting for you to honestly consider your feelings towards me, knowing full well it had not been long enough, I accepted your word because I missed you. We both wanted things to be alright again without the work that should have come with it.”

“That doesn’t make what I did any better.” The brunet swallowed, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Fuck, Draco, you should hate me.”

“Why? I know the type of person you are, Harry. I should have realised your feelings sooner rather than delude myself that you could possibly be alright with what I did,” the Slytherin explained patiently. “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same if I had been in your position.”

The brunet flinched slightly at his words. “Why are relationships so fucking hard?” he muttered, staring fixatedly at the floor. His question elicited a chuckle from the blond and Harry lifted his head, a small ironic smile appearing on his lips.

“It’s probably because it’s us,” Draco replied, tilting his head as he pondered the notion. “We went the better part of seven years hating one another.”

Harry offered a small smile. “I don’t hate you anymore,” he commented.

The Slytherin grinned. “And I believe my declaration of love may have been evidence enough for no longer hating you either.”

A chuckle slipped from Harry’s lips. “Yeah… that’d just about do it.” He gazed up at Malfoy with careful exposed eyes. He was tired of hiding things. He was tired of pretending. “I really am sorry, Draco, for being such an arse these past couple of days. I should have been honest with you from the get go.”

“I’m sorry as well,” Draco murmured, tracing gentle fingers along Harry’s jawline. They curled around the nape of his neck, brushing through the dark curls. “We should have spoken about what happened. I shouldn’t have ignored what I did in favour of returning to what he had. It was selfish—”

“On both our counts,” Harry interjected, leaning absently into the blond’s touch. “I wanted things to be back to normal just as much as you did.”

“We’re quite a pair.” Draco smirked.

Harry’s heart thudded. “Are we?” he asked, voice laced with uncertainty. “…a pair?”

The blond’s smirk widened. “I’m game if you are, Potter.”

Tension seemed to drain out of the dark-haired male, his green eyes brightening at the hint of a challenge in the Slytherin’s tone.

“Bring it, Malfoy.”

Draco kissed him so deeply Harry saw stars. The blond’s hands were clenched into Harry’s skin tight enough to bruise—and Harry loved every moment of it. He accepted Draco’s probing tongue without a second thought, his own fingers knotting into the blond’s shirt.

Looking back, everything about Harry’s actions had been so stupid. He should have known that there would be more to this relationship stuff than just fooling around. At least Draco had enough gall to actually call him out on his shit.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we're almost there!! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through the process of this story. It the very first multi-chaptered fic I have ever posted to the public. Thank you for all of the wonderful comments and support that egged me on! <3


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